Alone,
I conquer,
really almost anything.
I've built this fire with my own hands.
I survive just fine,
just me. I know what to do.
Raging and warm, bursting with pride,
I sit with it.
It's beautiful, these flames,
that crack and crumble.
The light entices me,
and I waver between knowing
it needs to be fed but not smothered.
It can not grow without space to breathe.
So I shift the pieces to different places,
and it thrives.
But the brightness starts to scare me,
because I can't contain it.
I grow dizzy with worry
of its consumption,
that its power will destroy
everything,
including me.
So I sit with it, again,
feeling its heat hit my face,
trusting the path of ashes as they fall.
Knowing I am the creator and destroyer,
the creation and destruction.
This whole cycle,
is me.
And I am not alone
