My brain heats up. My soul catches fire. My heart explodes into a bonfire of confusion.
At the expense of my burning eyes, I stare into the flame as I tiptoe slowly toward the heat of its core.
I see it's many colors. I see the orange of regret. Red of hate. The purple of confusion. The blue of hope and the yellow of a brighter day.
The fire slowly builds. It's potency is commensurate to the intensity of my gaze. I focus, watching the colors synthesize, converge and marry.
While the colors dance to the sound of popping twigs; confusion and doubt ensue. I attempt to reconcile the complexity of this merger. My senses are feeling overwhelmed.
I lower my gaze.
My eyes weaken and my focus wanes. The wind blows and the popping sounds calm. The colors dim, isolate, and detach.
For a moment I enjoy its simplicity. Colors compartmentalized. Intensity faded. The bonfire has transformed into a gentle and manageable flame.
I notice though that with this peace comes a lack of character. The fire seems mundane and without meaning. My brain is dulled. My soul exists, but without spirit. Yet, a strong force pulls me to its innocence and purity.
I ask myself, do I prefer the complexity of the bonfire or the simplicity of the gentle flame?
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