The Burning was a Gift

I used to wonder at this burning

And think, “I must not let it burn so hot

I must contain my fire—

So much damage can it do.

— A fire left unchecked?

We should better put it out.”

But what I did not realize

Was that no one could extinguish

The billowing flames of the burning—

And try as I might, my flames would not

Be quenched

—And I despaired,

knowing my fire must burn.

But what I could not realize

Was with the light I made

(As I burned inwardly)

Others navigated the seas

They found their way from east to west

To places they’d only dreamed

And farmers planted crops that grew,

And the cold transformed to warmth

And the lost found their way in my light.

And without the burning—

Nothing would be found

—Nothing would thrive.

And when I realized this was true,

That all things,

the burning

The fire

the flames

were not to be feared

—but to be used?

I realized there was purpose in the burning.

And I rejoiced in the dancing flames

knowing that others

Might find their way as well.

For in the light of the stars

Darkness cannot stand.

And my fire had always been a gift.