Like Fire

Why is it that I am always craving what I do not currently possess? It's a deep urning I have. A fire that never fully burns out and then with no warning at all, someone or something throws some sticks and wood on me. Sets me off burning again. Fuels the soothing ashes and reignites the hot orange flames. Perhaps I am the fire and my inspiration its kindle. Without the muse, I lay low and quiet, smoldering ever so faintly. I've been lit. Today, in this moment, I am a-light. I have been fueled once more and my tiny copper remains are now large and alive. I am waiting to show the world the beauty I possess. The beauty hidden within these sizzling, flushed flames I call my own. There must be more to this life than what we are taught. We, as a majority are losing sight of what is beautiful and what is raw. I wish to breathe in every piece of this life I have been given. My desire is to feel the softness of your flesh. Graze my feet with the rough touch of pebbles beneath my toes. Lay with me here and take in this sky. It is a world of it's own. I wish to be a part of that world. See through my eyes. Let me see through yours. Allow yourself to witness the beauty I see before me. Breathe. Deeply. Take this moment in. I feel my fire burning within your chest, as honest as it is warm. Don't let go now, for it is these moments we take for granted.
Hands, soft, smooth, warm. Touch this night. We have lost what it means to touch. Touch me. We are all touching one another somehow, often through physical means and at other times without realisation. This is the best form of touch. A touch that stems deeper than any form of physical expression. Am I touching you now? I have been touched. Not by hands, or lips, but by images and words. Thank you for touching me. It has loosened the firmness of the belt that has been strapping me to this ride. Suddenly I am not frightened to fall off. You don't know me. Nor do I really know you. Yet I know your words and I feel as though I met your eyes a thousand years ago. You are an artist and age is irrelevant in the world that I seek. Your wisdom is far beyond your years. You have been here before, and your depth is inspiring. Without a world of dreamers and artists what are we? We should not be afraid to dream. We should not be afraid to love. We are all artists in some form. Let us not hide from that knowledge. I don’t want to be forever trapped in a body grown old and aged with fear. A fear of failure, a fear of the unexpected, a fear of change. For it is these things that create a life. A life that was meant to be lived. Are we living? When I am old and my bones brittle, I wish to say I have seen the world and what it has to offer. Through my own eyes as well as through the eyes of others. I wish to die rich with knowledge, but not the kind written in text books. I don't wish to be rich with money that is so easily wasted away on possessions and idealistic natures. Wasted on what is fake and what should not be seen as important. Children, elderly, we are all the same souls, our only difference is time. Time used or time wasted. I wish never to waste this precious time again. I have not yet seen all I wish to see. I look forward to seeing and learning about what I do not already know. I look forward to this fire never dying out. But most of all I look forward to meeting you. It could be that we are all like fire, needing to be constantly re-lit. We will continue to burn as brightly as today allows... and I will burn because I see the fire in you and that gives me hope. Hope for mankind and most of all, hope for our futures.