I've always been afraid of fire, but I become entranced in its presence. Flames dancing in the air, energy in motion. Mysterious and complex, yet basic in principle. Life.
I found a new summer hobby; I deliberately lose myself on back roads so I can discover more. Today, I discovered a new town. As I rolled through the paths of this new maze, I stared at the track ahead until I saw the fire. I gazed out of my open window into the painted sky. Purple mountains ran deep in the distance and the torched clouds lit the underlying emerald expanse. I followed this field for as long as it would let me and I soon reached a familiar road. As I flew away, I blew a kiss into the flame. The air grew colder. My skin raised in response to the chill, however, the flame spread to my soul. As I leaned back to exhale smoke into the wind I echoed nature's cry:
Night embraced the flame and soon darkness and celestial sentinels shielded their admirers below. The empty road stretched beneath me and opened my mind. As I passed through my town, an image of my past blasted into my thoughts. I would say goodbye to an old friend before I flew north.
The high school parking lot. The playground of my adolescence. The curtains of my memory opened to reveal scenes from my past filling the skeletal spaces. Phantom friends laugh and chase and tackle each other, newly veiled in shadow. As they rejoiced in youth, my eyes wandered towards the sky. A flame flapped in the breeze, and others soon followed. Inspiration overhead cried, "It's time for you to leave."
"I'm ready." I replied.
As I conclude this account of the evening's events, an old summer song begins to play. I remember the time I first heard it, how it moved within me, how I danced. While I dance, the song echoes my thoughts:
"I look straight at what's coming ahead, and soon it's going to change in a new direction. Every night as I'm falling asleep, these words repeated in my head."
My internal flame will never die. I'm not afraid anymore.