There comes a time when people in your life burn, they burn, they burn so bright your skin tingles and your head quivers in angst. All you can think to yourself is, flying for the sun, when will i start to burn as well? You reach and reach and eventually you lose sight of that inexplicable person’s setting shadow, in the sun’s glaring eye. And there they go, you think to yourself, beated wings in a memory of euphoric nostalgia.
Bitter sweet isn’t it?
But you learn, you learn of your own shadow, of its ins and outs, of it shadowy doubts. And in your substantial disturbance of your own reality, a spark starts to flicker in and out of periphery existence. In that moment you stop looking back and start looking up. Your core starts to vibrate and a sense of distant longing occurs, not relief, no never relief. Being on fire means you can never forget. It drives purpose and shadows doubt.
Shadow, what an empty substance, with so much depth.
You see, burning on beated wings may be hard to follow in the sky, but loving the fire of ones own self, will always keep them grounded.
How can we love that which burns?
Fire is excitement, it is the sky, when what is needed is the ground.
So why do we have a hard time loving the sun? Its simple, loving ourselves burns up our soul? But then why do we do it? Why do we love the sun?
Because loving the shadow of ourselves, gives rise to the sky, when all we need is the ground.
Because flying on beated wings, towards the sun, is harder than accepting the ground for what it really is.