Fire:
combustion or burning, in which substances combine chemically with oxygen from the air and typically give out bright light, heat, and smoke.
It's such an unfeeling and distant way to describe such a contradictory thing.
Fire in it of itself is heat, yes. Chemical reactions, light, energy, plasma even.
But it's more than that isnt it?
I think so at least.
So is he. Something that cannot simply be defined.
He is warmth. The way his arms wrap tight around me. The bubble of his laughter. The uneven smirk of his smile. The heat of the food he loves. The kisses pressed to my forehead when he wakes before me. So incredibly warm that he seeps into me when the entire world feels cold and dark. When I'm with him that deep aching loneliness thaws away. From the tips of my fingers, the curve of my nose, and the bends in my ears to the depths of my chest. He melts away the cold world. He's a fireplace and a a good book in the winter. A cozy bed as the sun yawns in the mornings. The feeling of the sun hitting your skin on a breezy summer afternoon.
He burns aflame. Bright and brilliant. Nothing could stand in his way when he's a determined forest fire. Burning away the old and leaving room for the new. Destroying my walls and barriers, melting away the aches and pains. In his wake, new life, hope, and potential for more is left behind. Old forests of dry and dead wood turned to ash which breathe life to forgotten flowers and trees that once flourished long ago. He's brave, unwavering, and a force to be reckoned with. Fires that blaze in an unforgettable glory. Determination. The fierceness of it all.
He's a light in the dark. A flicker of a candle, paving the way through the gloom and darkness on a stormy night. A brightness that guides, a helping hand when you're lost. A leader in a world of madness. So clear the way he shimmers. It's hard not to stare in awe of him. The way he shifts and moves. The dance of the wick and its glowing yellow flower. The way it changes. Mesmerizing isnt it? The way I often get lost admiring his flames. Entrancing. intimate. Like a secret kept through time. I wonder how no one else has ever seen it before.
When he's angry it burns. Not in the way you'd think. The painful shame and guilt of hurting someone I love so dearly. It pulls and tears through me, leaving holes like scorched fabric. When his anger sparks its with good reason. The desperation to fix and mend burns through me. Praying that I can solder and repair the gaping holes. Cauterize the wounds rather than let them set bridges ablaze.
People often warn you not fall inlove with a flame. You'll get burned, they say. What if he's out of control?
I suppose it depends on the flame and what he burns for. He burns to protect. He sets fire to my fears. Has laid waste to my troubles. Letting hope and love take root amongst the ashes of self doubt.
He took me in from the cold and let me find safety and comfort in his warmth while I mended my broken heart. I'd been cast aside by family, let to wander the world wondering where my place was within it. He shed light on me, helped show me that my heart was worth fighting for. That I had a place in this world whether it was beside him or not.
His flames gave me strength. Empowered me to keep moving on my hardest days. The memories of him helping me grow willed me to move forward.
On the days when life has reduced him to embers, I'm there shouting from the rooftops of the good he's brought to the lives his light has touched. Never letting him forget himself. Encouraging him to burn brighter, to never forget that flames are never just destruction. They breathe life into the world. They heal, shine, protect, and grow.
Where would we be without the burning glory of the fiery mountains above? What would out world be had they not gifted us our land? Brought nutrients from the earth so our crops could flourish?
What about the hearths in our homes? A gathering for warmth, family, and good food.
The blaze of our sun, the blacksmith's craft, and the flames that bring light to the shadows. Our very way of life built upon flames like his.
To say the spark in him is anything less than miraculous is to discredit the beauty of the world around us and the spark in everyone who loves the way he does.
If only he could see his depth and priceless heart the way I do.