Playing with Fire
We as humans attribute to the heart much which we truly owe the brain. Feelings of intense affection and loathing are created in the mind, yet we can feel them like a palpable condition within ourselves, originating in the chest and radiating out throughout the rest of our bodies. The organ used to pump blood throughout the body does not understand emotion, and yet we seem to feel within it such a very real sense of mood. The most intense of which, the most intangible yet undeniably present of these sensations, is that of love.
Passion is often said to burn, like a fire within the soul. This is misleading, as it most often conjures images of a roaring blaze, a bonfire burning brightly to be seen for miles around. While it is true that passion can act as such, it is most often lust that burns so strong, a sudden unquenchable flame that cannot be contained. True love is not thus; it is a gentle, continuous burn, a steady pilot light, never flickering or flaring. But without proper attention and care, how long can that flame remain lit?
I've had a fire in my heart for approaching a year now. It started out as just a spark, one that slowly smoldered within me for months, until an encouraging breeze allowed it to grow into a gentle flame. Through the months, however, neglect and rough weather have ravaged it, rending the flame, which once had the potential to burn so brightly, into little more than glowing embers. But time and time again those embers have proven the potential to still emit flames with just a bit of air and gentle prodding. Unfortunately he who would tend the embers, he who brings the wind rarely blows my way anymore.
And now I've found another spark. It's new and unknown, and there's no way to tell if it has the potential to ever grow into something more, into a real flame. Perhaps it is just that, a spark, which shines brightly momentarily only to disappear into nothingness. But it currently displays the potential for life, whereas my embers continue to suffocate without the air needed to sustain them.
So I'm left with a difficult choice. To ignore the spark and let it fade as quickly as it appeared, or to finally recognize that embers without oxygen can never grow back into fire so long as the wind refuses to acknowledge them. Either way, the immediate result can only be a heart already chilled growing even colder.
Passion is often said to burn, like a fire within the soul. This is misleading, as it most often conjures images of a roaring blaze, a bonfire burning brightly to be seen for miles around. While it is true that passion can act as such, it is most often lust that burns so strong, a sudden unquenchable flame that cannot be contained. True love is not thus; it is a gentle, continuous burn, a steady pilot light, never flickering or flaring. But without proper attention and care, how long can that flame remain lit?
I've had a fire in my heart for approaching a year now. It started out as just a spark, one that slowly smoldered within me for months, until an encouraging breeze allowed it to grow into a gentle flame. Through the months, however, neglect and rough weather have ravaged it, rending the flame, which once had the potential to burn so brightly, into little more than glowing embers. But time and time again those embers have proven the potential to still emit flames with just a bit of air and gentle prodding. Unfortunately he who would tend the embers, he who brings the wind rarely blows my way anymore.
And now I've found another spark. It's new and unknown, and there's no way to tell if it has the potential to ever grow into something more, into a real flame. Perhaps it is just that, a spark, which shines brightly momentarily only to disappear into nothingness. But it currently displays the potential for life, whereas my embers continue to suffocate without the air needed to sustain them.
So I'm left with a difficult choice. To ignore the spark and let it fade as quickly as it appeared, or to finally recognize that embers without oxygen can never grow back into fire so long as the wind refuses to acknowledge them. Either way, the immediate result can only be a heart already chilled growing even colder.