Waking Up
The Fire
“Yes, You will rise from the ashes, But the burning comes first. For this part, Darling, You must be brave.’”
-Kalen Dion
I recall the fire. I recall the pain and the agony. I recall watching from the flames as you stood on the side, close enough to feel the heat, but safe enough to avoid getting burned. I watched you, begged you, pleaded with you to quench my thirst. To wrap me in ice and cool down my skin. I longed for safety and security and you offered a vaping mist. The flames licked away the droplets and seared the air with ruby embers. I crumpled on the ground begging for your hand, but you offered me a stick. It was held by you, I convinced myself that was enough. The stick burnt away. It sizzled into soot. Crisped and cracked. It popped under the heat until all that was left was a reminder of your “try” of your attempt.
So I burned alone.
My body was ashes. My muses whispered hope and faith to what was left of me. Formless. Months I stayed that way. Months while you continue living. Months while your life continued.
Blessing fell down on me. My body, I could feel it again. I was growing arms, legs, a head, eyes, claws, teeth, wings…what was happening to me?
The ashes, soot, dirt, and stone embedded into my skin. They were the scars of a reminder of the pain. It was my skin. Jaded. Cold. Hard. I looked around with my new eyes. They were blurred and foggy. My head was swimming. I dared not look in a mirror to see what I had become. I knew all too well what I had become. A forked tongue slid from behind my lips. I feared what I was. THE FIRE burned away my softness. I fear my capability. I fear what I could do. So much power in one body is tempting, but still, I grip the edges of the broken shards that was once the mirror I looked into, and tried to pick up the pieces. I saw versions of myself that was smiling. Beautiful. Wholesome. Good. The mirror doesn’t show that now. It shows a reptile of ungodly motives. It shows a monster.
The Grave
“We are the living graves of murdered beasts.”
-George Bernard Shaw
In the suffering from which I endured, I grow unaware of the conflict that is battling within me. The part of me that wants to continue to thriving in the life that I find complacent or another part, the part of me that dug from the ashes into a new form that wants to set flight into a red and orange sky of burning clouds and ignited sulfur. Although I know that the second option is not necessarily out of the question, I found myself thriving in what I knew was comfortable and complacent. I chose to endure this tangled life of scorned words and broken hearts. I longed for the touch and peace, a reality that would shed my new form and allow me to celebrate in this victory over death. Still, the death of which I have watched and overcome, is still a haunting miasma of sorted memories and toxic gases. Still though I try to find comfort in the circumstances.
I told myself that there were two sides to the coin we were given. I told myself that I only see one side and unable to see the other. I told myself to find empathy in my heart. That’s the problem there is though. My heart has turned black. Loathing bile forms on my lips and in my throat. I want to vomit and scream. I remove the attempt. Instead I blink away past curses and pains and try to look on the bright side. I ask myself “am I looking for the bright side or am I making excuses?”
I attempt to take flight but my wings are still new. They are not strong enough to lift me from the ground, so I settle with complacency. It will give them time to strengthen. It will give them time to become broad and wide with beautiful grace and speed. So I wait. I wait until the moment they are ready to lift me from the ground.
Until that time comes, I remain in THE GRAVE and rest while I strengthen myself. Though it sounds morbid and sad, and maybe it is, but let it be known that time has a place and moment for all things to come to pass. Though I lay in this grave starving and aching, I know that I will engorge myself with everything that I have been missing and needing. I will wait. Like fine wine or a seasoned soup, my emergence will be splendid.
Eyes Wide Open
“Progress should not bow to fear, but should proceed with eyes wide open.”
Max More
I can see now. I see it all as it is. I see the lies I have told myself over and over again. I see the overall torment and the pain. I see the gluttonous avenue of which I have walked down. I understand now what it is that must be done. There is suffering in the fire and loneliness in the grave, but there is life in the skies above me. Though I wait for the right time to take flight and sore into the stratosphere, I understand what must continue on.
Patience is a way to triumph over the ill and the wickedness. If it is to mean that I myself have to be wicked and cold, then so be it. If I must remain jaded and bitter then I will adopt this new message in life.
However, with all that I could do and that I will do, I will stay strong to the faith that brought me through the fire and remained with me while lying in the grave. I will continue to cling to this hope and joy, even if it is nothing more than a small flickering flame. I will breathe life into it as it did me once. Take in the fire that is burning within my body. Harness it. Burn the bridges that I thought were suspended by flame resistance leather and scorch the ground. Leave nothing in my wake, but do it with grace and plenty. With EYES WIDE OPEN I can see all that is around me. I can see my past, present, and future.
Although progress takes time, there are moments when one must look at time, smile, and burn it to the ground. I will no longer remain still and silent. I will wear my scars and dress in stones and jaded diamonds. Allow me to introduce you to the likes of me which you have never seen. Beware the fire in my belly and the faith in my heart. Just as if they were a sword and shield, I shall ride off to battle and prepare for a waging war that is permeating from within me. You laugh now and mock my capabilities, let us see who is laughing when the world as you know it becomes ash. Rebuild yourself as I did and prepare for a painful reminder that a sleeping dragon is only dangerous when it is WAKING UP.
