The fire denied

There is a fire under me. The fire has been denied.

This fire will only rise when I align myself with it.

It has been so long since I knelt to touch the incendiary within, the gift of Prometheus that rises within me. Under the cold blanket of forgetfulness, of denial of self, the coals are hot and ready to ignite.

When I encounter this fire through others, I want to run and shriek and run about. I feel it running deep, so close, yet so far from release.

A lifetime of hidden fire wells up within me like magma flowing upward below the surface of a caldera. Deep below I am moving like the earth, like the plates of the earth, the feet of the giant that stands upon the sea floor, waiting to align, waiting its turn.

I want to howl with passion, howl with pain. How many humans are like me, full of stifled fire, armies of fire, galaxies of fire, trembling under my senses, under the tender skin that covers me, that covers my heart.

I want to beat the sound of freedom. I want to dance upon the burning coals. Dance and dance in the darkness, the sparks rising around me. Dance the wisdom, the need, the power.

How am I released?

How shall I be released?

How shall I become?

The beast of blindness lumbers about, and I tremble without moving, lost within. I writhe without sounding my pain and fear, my hissing lust rising like gasses of steam.

Give me small purchase. I search for the handholds above me, the footholds that leave behind this lie, society’s lie, the burden that fell upon me, that I have carried and made true out of bondage and ignorance.

Father… father… I call to you. My father, the father of all.

I would be undone.

I would be undone.

I would be undone.