CHILD OF FLAME

A poem on the fire of your soul.

Child of flame,
You were born to burn.
Born to blaze.
Born to rage.
Born to smoulder.

Your fire is one
Wrought from the heavens,
God-like, as you are.
A touch of the divine
In every breath,
In every step,
In every word.

What a gift you have
To hold the spark of life
Within your chest.
Its cosmic rhythm
Playing a beat
From God himself.

Yet, how you squander this.
Ages pass you by,
As roaring flame
Is quenched
By the icy grip of
Fear.

You were born to burn,
It is your nature.
Yet, the cold begs a question —
Can a fire truly rage,
If it rages all alone?

It is true,
A fire will struggle
In the dim, dark and damp.
Its flame will falter,
Its light, dull and scant.

Yet, battle, you must
Against the frigid winds of life.
There is more for you
Than mere tempests of strife.

Rage on,
As you hold
No earthly flame,
But a gift from the Gods,
Bears a toll
Prometheus paid.

Recite this prayer,
As you walk your path:

Every raging inferno
Was once but a spark.
Every masterful work
Was once but a thought.
And all of creation
Once blossomed from nought.

So, child of flame,
Burn,
Blaze,
Rage,
And smoulder.

Do not wait
’Til this dream is all over.

Take heart
As no flame burns alone.
The universe itself
Awaits your fiery soul.

So, show us all
The way which you burn.
Blaze for far heights
For which your heart yearns.

Go forth,
Child of flame.
Shatter shackles of fear,
Scorch all chains of concern.
Burn your flame out,
Before you return

To the ash of creation
From which we all came.
Remember,
We are not promised
Even
A minute,
An hour,
or day.