I wrote the following words at a young 17 years of age. They came to my mind recently so I thought I would share them with you. One of my favorite ways to understand something or think about something is by using a metaphor from nature. Oh, how I love nature.

The fire is familiar tonight. It's embers glow softly. They are the remnants of what once burned bright. The burning logs dominate in comparison and their product is a breathtaking bloom of flame. The wood crackles. As it continues to warm, it settles into the place that fits it best. Flames flicker, illuminating the room--also my eyes, my troubled eyes. As the smoke rises, it is as if i can see my thoughts entangled in its' whispy arms. It carries my thoughts up and exposes them to the world as the wind sweeps the smoke away.

A fire burns within me--a fire of love and compassion. Most see fire as destructive but tonight, I find it healing. It is here with me, beside me. I look into it and see everything that makes up who I remain to be. The sparks that suddenly break free give me hope that someone is out there who can love me--all of me. I hurt, but find peace in this moment--With an unbroken gaze, I can get a glimpse of my soul and the breadth of all that i am.

I can see your face, tonight, in the flames, and as hard as I try, I cannot extinguish it.

The fire is dying down. Does love die down? Maybe it is just sleeping for a time. After all, a burnt log is much easier to rekindle than a log that has never tasted the fire before.

Now the question is: is it better to be the fresh log or the burnt one?