One word that makes a billion thoughts run through my mind.
Element. Love. Loss. Lust. Danger. Damage. Energy. Inspiration. Passion. Hot. Wild. Power. Uncontrollable.
Those are just some of the adjectives that at different points of my life I associated with the word.
But one that has always been in my mind associated with fire is reverence.
It’s an emotion it always has been able to incite in me, whether I wanted it to or not. How can I not feel it? Fire’s beautiful colors, so contrasting, so bright, so naked and yet standing high and proud no matter what it’s surroundings, lapping around, aware of its power and the damage it can cause. Aware of its importance, aware of its need and completely pleased about itself. Majestic in its stature, brightening all hollows around it effortlessly, mocking anything in its vicinity of their powerlessness in front of it.
It doesn’t know the meaning of humility or weakness nor does it give in, give up. No matter how small it starts off as, it strives to grow stronger, knowing its potential and working hard to achieve it.
I fear it, yet I love it. I know it has the capability of engulfing me in itself, damaging me with its heat, yet I don’t mind the risk as every time I hope this time I will tame it.
Yet, in the end I always find myself wondering who gave in to whom.
It astounds me, mesmerizing me with the constant tug and pull it exerts on me.
Am I different? Or are there other people out there so captivated by fire, no matter what it’s form.
Fire is power, and I can’t ever let the fire in me die. I need it to flow through me, brighten me, to light me up. I will risk being burned in the efforts because then I wouldn’t have to regret that I never tried.
And nothing good ever comes without some burns, does it now?
I am wearing here a fur gilet and a silk button down with leather pants-all from Mango-and flats from a local store.