Like a moth to a flame, you were drawn to me. Impulsively, you reached out without thinking, desiring to touch the sight before you, but just as quickly you had to snatch your hand back at the bite of the burn. Captivated by a wildfire you barely understood, all you knew was that you had to have it. Wanting to spend forever gazing at my fantastic light, you spoke such sweet words, fanning the coals of my heart with promises that sounded so beautiful, so eternal. I was happy to join you.
But after a short while, my flame must have stopped seeming so bright, so fantastic, and beautiful. You gazed less and less at the light you once coveted with passion. You stopped fanning the coals. You were distracted, disinterested. You placed your prized flame on a shelf under glass as part of a collection meant to be displayed for others as a trophy with a sweet story. Hoping to preserve the splendor you captured, instead you strangled it. Robbed of my air, you deprived me of what gave me life, and the flames dimmed.
Occasionally, you would return to the glass and pull it off the shelf to issue promises of grand plans and fun times. You would stoke the fire, just a touch, so the flame would leap up, but it was always brief. Then you would return me to the glass, and the glass to the shelf with your attention ever on other things. There was barely a glow left of the dying embers of a once magnificent wildfire, now reduced to a waning spark.
Then I went out.
You never noticed. For so long you barely looked up. Hardly a glance was cast to my spot on that shelf. Had I become so dull a thing that you could not even perceive my absence? And now, a pile of ash was all that remained.
A heartbeat. Can a heart beat in ashes? One did.
And smoke. Slowly, tendrils of smoke climbed from the ashes and curled to the top of the glass.
An intense and radiating heat began to emanate. The glass vibrated and cracked as the heat built up inside; it could not be contained. The glass shattered in every direction and you turned to look.
From that heartbeat, and smoke, and heat, an explosion of fire burst forth. A ball of flames arose, and great fiery wings unfurled as a Phoenix was birthed on that day. A wildfire no more, but the epitome of beauty from ashes, a living blaze stood there. Still, you wanted to contain me, keep me as a trophy, collect me as your own. But no cage could hold me now. You spoke sweet words to soothe me, yet they fell on ears that had learned to be deaf to your voice. You tried to fan my flames but had no effect. They burned only for me and you could do nothing to increase nor decrease them.
I spread my wings and rose to the sky without so much as a backward glance. Higher I rose, away from your reach and anyone else’s. Never again would I listen to any song but my own. Soaring across the sky, I sang proudly of my joy, unhindered, wild and free.
Hey everyone! This is a story my sister, Liane Davis, wrote and sent to me. I thought it was beautiful and just had to share it (with her permission). Hit the like button and drop a line in the comments of your thoughts on it! Thank you all.