Survive the winter, the flood, the rain and everything else that kills fire, that ends a flicker and cools a burn. Congratulations to those who survived, even with fragments and pieces that correspond to life when put together at the joints. You are alive. At least, by the doctor’s assessment, you are still pumping blood and performing the minimum functions required of a human being.
Say “good morning” to the sun. It’s 36 degrees Centigrade and a sweaty oven outdoors. Would you rather burn out in the field or die of gradual suffocation inside a sunless coffin? Options hardly give you an easy way out.
I switched on some video and found a sound that sounded like me before there was snow and rain… before the floods drenched all wood and made it impossible for them to catch fire. He was singing my song, my anthem, my purpose. He is alive. And not by doctor’s standards but by virtue of the purpose for which he breathed and pumped oxygen and blood.
Life can be likened to when your heart pumps a hybrid of fire and plasma. If blood flows through your veins, let it carry fire back into your heart. As hot as the sun’s rays feel against your checks, so is the fire that wants to invade you. When you close your eyes and feel but nothing, remember a song that made you gasp for air, because it reminded you of the fact that you are barely breathing. A mediocre breath on a mediocre day is a mediocre life. Many of us are entangled in these.
I am walking on concrete and playing it safe. I am embracing my pillow as I wave my sword. I am lured by comfort as much as I am excited by war. And so I stay in the middle and hope life sweeps me off my feet. I need you to remind me that I was made to burn and not fade away.
Forget the trophies, the laurels and the luxuries. Forget the scars and endure the healing wounds. Your cause has not forgotten you. It has always remained right there, waiting for you to pick it up. Or so I would remind myself… because I was not made to pump blood. I was created to cary fire in my bones.