Reflection of Embers
As a child I heard the voice, soothing, screaming. It compelled me to let it out. To watch its light, to feel it’s warmth, to behold it’s fury. It’s dance was intoxicating, beautiful in its desolation. So many times I longed to be its partner.
As I grew so did my urges. They became harder to control. The voice made ugly demands of me. Wanted me to use the light to do terrible things. But I would never corrupt the light. Never would I sour it’s beauty with screams. No matter how many times the voice demands my obedience I will not falter. The light will remain pure.
As a man I thought I’d put away the voice like so many childish things. Yet every once in a while it would whisper to me in the dark, quiet hours of the night. Begging me to see the light, to feel it’s heat and smell the burning one last time. I never succumb, much as I might want to. For the urge has become too dangerous and I fear I am too weak to resist.