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“keep the fire burning” REO Speedwagon

I wish to dance in the flames that ignite.
I wish to burn with passion – that which can not be contained or controlled, pure, raw passion. I wish to live for the fire in my soul that drives, burns, motivates, consumes. Not just a dying ember, kept alive by the wind from your billows. Grateful to you for the tiny breeze you allow in through a tiny gap in the window, sufficient to keep my flame alive, but so far from sufficient – for a flame that burns only as a single candle, when it was intended to set a forest ablaze can hardly satisfy. And that is all you can allow, for that – you can contain and control. Yet its cruel – less cruel perhaps to extinguish it entirely?
But when you are able, when you are truly able to sit and watch someone else’s flames, to sit just as a spectator, staring into the flames, mesmerized by their beauty, by their colours, their shapes and forms, yet knowing full well, that to even attempt to grasp them, to take hold of them, would be stupid, foolish. Who would even consider the attempt, for it’s simply not possible to contain flames in your bare hands. To try to hold them, own them, control them. Their beauty would burn. Their beauty would hurt. Their beauty would turn to destruction. Their beauty would scar you. But to watch. Oh to simply sit – you being you – and me being me – and watch. And appreciate. And bask in what the flames DO OFFER you – warmth, a glow, a radiance, a dance, a display, a space in which to lose yourself to the flames, in the most gentle way – keeping yourself to yourself, yet becoming part of the flames – without touching, without controlling, without owning or keeping or holding or possessing.
I want to dance in my fire. In my passion. I want you to watch. To love. To appreciate. To enjoy. I want you to bask in it. It is for you. Its not FOR me – its WHO I AM. So I bring who I am, because who I am goes with me wherever I do, but if I am there, and so are you – then I bring who I am – for you to enjoy. But not to own. I will hurt you. Not because I deliberately plan or contrive to do so, but simply because I am the fire – the fire is in me. And I want to ignite my own flames. We all come into this world with a spark. I don’t want you to fan my flames, however tenderly, gently, lovingly. For then I am dependant, for life, on the oxygen you supply. And should your oxygen, for a myriad of reasons blow dry, then my spark flickers, falters, fails. Dies. But if I find, within myself, my own breath, then – then my fire burns. Forever.
Then I am master of my own destiny, for I can play small, and reduce my spark to a tiny harmless flame, flickering feebly, when I need to, as life may at times require, for the greater good, for a period of hiatus. But then too, when I am done with the interlude, the respite of burning as a single flame, when I am tired of having interrupted and suspended my own fire, then it is I and I alone, who is capable of fanning the flames again, into full splendour. Without depending on or awaiting a wind, that may or may not come.
For this I have learnt – through being oxygen dependant for too long:
That no one can dance in anyone else’s flames. Your flames must dance for you, with you, in you. Your own desires must burn so brightly, that you almost spontaneously combust with the love of YOUR life. And then, only then, will others be drawn to you, to watch the spectacular. To feel the warmth radiate and to see the sparks fly.
But watching someone else’s sparks, basking in the heat of another’s fire – never keeps you warm for very long.

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