I am a Firekeeper
But when the fuel runs low
I huddle over the embers, wishing for it to grow even just a little.
But the embers remain the same.
It first began as a spark and I fed it with whatever I had. It took a while but the spark finally caught fire and grew to a small flame.
Tending to fires is a tricky and tiring job — there are too many factors to consider. The cold wind blows erratically and infrequently, threatening to snuff out the flame. And it rains at times too, sometimes a downpour, other times a shower.
keep the flames roaring
within the plains of your heart —
it never dies out
My fire diminished to embers but I have managed to keep it burning. The worst part is, across this featureless vast plain, I must keep the fire burning alone. No one can help me. And it does not help when I can see roaring flames of other firekeepers.
My embers are pitiable next to the majesty of their flames.
But they have nothing to do with me. Of course, my flames are mine alone. Such is the mentality of a firekeeper, gazing at the success of other firekeepers.
Should I give up?
My embers are not dead — they are barely alive though. Embers is a curious phenomenon. Fan it too hard and it extinguishes; too light and it only glows brighter. So for a while, I did nothing as I regarded it.
I even left it alone.
In the end, I return — the hypnotic allure of the embers ensnares me again. I poke at it and the embers crack.
even a spark can
create gigantic flames when
it’s given a chance
For the moment, I will continue to tend to my embers.
