Walking. Its calming. A sort of peace hard to disturb, while listening to music and feeling the wind. Yet, it’s a still form of thought- not a whirlwind but a gentile motion.
My thoughts have been dormant, my passions cooled. A shell of narrow confines, cold and still have been surrounding me for so long that I had forgotten who I had been before. My walks were the one way I chaffed at this bland existence, but they were nothing more than a pathetic attempt to chip at the ice, one that formed no cracks at all.
Back to the walk.
As I listened to the music, I dredged up recent memories. Emotions. Feelings. I remembered my two parts. The gentile light, the turbulent dark. One content placidity, one forceful extremity. The light was the center of human emotion, the dark the edges often discouraged- whether they be positive or negative. And so I’ve been polarized, like the rest of the world, keeping passions at bay in my shell with the light surrounding the encasement of more powerful emotion.
I walked, remembering my emotions how I felt them- through a glass, as if I saw them but was not affected. They would but hit me for a moment, but not pierce my wall. I didn’t care. Happiness rolled off the shell like water, and sadness lingered but did not strengthen. It was…stagnate.
Music. It’s a powerful tool. I’ve always found solace in it. And as I walked, something inside me remembered. It remembered the feeling beyond the glass walls, beyond the icy enclosure. It remembered some long lost truth about my two sides, my two selves that once were not as they are now. And in that instant, I felt an urge. Primal. Instinct. Old as time itself.
I let this sudden urge claim me. The night cloaked me better than any clothing could, my passion protected my ill-shoed feet. The fire consumed my legs. My chest. My arms, my lungs, my hair, my body. I was motion. I was forward and backward and all directions.
In this instant of instinct, something broke. The walls that had surrounded me, that I had tried to chip at, weakened. For a single instant, a breath of air stirred within. And as it stirred, it found the spark of fire that the walls had long since thought they smothered. The fire stirred, and then ignited. A roiling flame grew, and the walls trembled in an attempt to confine the fire.
The world shattered. And the fire consumed me.
I was free. But I was not who I was before. I’ll never be that person. Because, like a phoenix, the fire remade me. My skin is not the skin of who I once was. My heart beats stronger than ever before. My eyes see new things, I smell new scents, my tongue tastes new sensation.
Who is she, this new person? This me but not me? She’s alive. She’s fire.
And in this consuming instant, something else occurred. The darkness, deep blackness inside, was released. Yet it did not consume the light. Instead, they merged, and in that I tasted the truth that my body remembered. That the dark is as vital as the light. Its not shameful to feel passion- its instinct. We spend so long defying it that we lose our primal selves, and then lose what is true humanity behind our cases.
To feel true happiness, true sadness must be a gamble. To feel beyond the bland middle, you must have both edges present. Yet the light keeps balance. For balance is vital.
And with this merger, my soul lit aflame. A new fire, brighter than I felt I could bear. It raced throughout my limbs, in my blood, and took control of my heart. My mind felt its pull and allowed it inside, and felt for the first time it could remember the burning of the web that surrounded it.
I understand now. My fire had been contained. But its sensation, emotion, that drive me. The ecstatic pleasure that runs through my body is the same as the deep sadness that shakes it. To feel alive I must feel all.
And so, I claim it. The fire within me shall be me. And I shall create and destroy my world again and again, for I am naught but the fire. I am dark as night and yet, when you see me, the fire in my eyes is that of the sun. For too long have I walked in the grey of my soul, looking for companionship to hold me. No longer. I need no one but my fire. For one to hold me is to both be burned and healed by the fire.
I am the flame that if you grasp, you shall burn and yet you shall feel. No calm and placid kitten, I am the tiger in the forest hunting her prey. Regardless if you are the deer or the tiger next to me, my path shall be the same. I need no one to mark my steps, so if you so desire to catch my fire, you’ll have to keep up with my pace. For the tiger stops for no person, no man, and I am the fire that rages within all.