Fire In My Heart

There’s a fire in my heart
that would one day
burn me down.

Sometimes she wants me
to chase those skyscrapers,
those big chapels
that stinks of the sweat of my friends
who were once ‘dear’ to me.

But I’m not like them, I tell her,
I can’t work in a cubicle
that has snatched the life out of people,
or a desk stuffed with files
that murder humans
even before death winks at them.
and yet I worry
“What if I have to?”

There’s a fire in my heart
that would one day
burn me down.

She often asks me
to leave everything behind
and roam around for the things
that breathes life into this soul of mine.

‘Run for the stories,’ she says,
‘the ones that are waiting to be heard
somewhere in the valleys of Himalayas,
the passion that runs
deep within your soul’
And I know, I know that she’s right,
that life is only lived
when we’re living for our dreams,
and yet I worry
“What if that’s not enough?”

There’s a fire in my heart
that would one day
burn me down.

Or perhaps it already has.