darkflavor

the blue flame dancing above white metal of the kitchen stove seemed harmless. it wasn’t red or threatening, but cool and soothing like flowing water. “is it hot?” i asked my mother while sitting in a chair pulled up to the stove so to watch the blue gas flame benign movements intimately. i had already began to move my index finger toward the seemingly harmless flame to touch it, to probe it’s nature, to feel it’s cool wetness over my finger. “Yes” she said, “so don’t touch it, you’ll burn your finger.” I stopped and looked her square in the eye to determine if she is telling me the truth. i looked back at the stove. the little blue dancing flame didn’t seem dangerous, like my mother relayed to me. this flame was different. then i made a rash decision that has become a perfect example of my nature and character. do i let my mother define my reality (regarding the properties of blue fire) or do i experience reality myself boldly without fear? i stuck my finger into the fire. i was burnt by the dancing blue flame.

what do you feel the point of this tale is?

just as it has been ten years without me drawing anything, it has been ten years since i wrote anything creative such as poetry. well, i did the face drawing two months ago. now i have written poetry. i found it to be an enjoyable endeavor that i would like to do again

fly o fly
why did you pass me by
am i not reflected in your countless little eyes?
you beat your tiny wings and aim for the sky.
and leave me to wonder why o why
you passed me by.

the cold unknown future.
we sail into the mist.
a brilliant flame we nurture
guides us from the abyss.
our life, our choice.
a map, a script,
ink on papyrus.
when the wind blows,
a sail is hoist.
we choose a crypt,
or choose a voice.

i have become transfixed on my websites outcome, the “perfect” and final version i visualize this site will be. this also is how i view myself. since neither my site nor myself are presently the ideal, perfect version i visualize, i in turn experience disappointment, doubt and depression over my current, present state of existence. slowly i am remembering through wisdom and personal growth that my ideal existence and the perfection of mySelf are not endings to be sought. i remember that all i can do is walk my path, for i can neither stand still nor jump to life’s end. i remember that my actions along this walk of life which reveal, one petal at a time, my ever radiant beauty. thus, in execution the journey of life, blossoming, is itself perfection.