gathering embers

Remember. That rising heat in your soul is rage. It is rage for doing excessively but still not having done enough. It is rage for emptying yourself out and making room for the arbitrary whim of of the people around you and the circumstances that govern them. It is rage for fulfilling it all, but not fulfilling yourself. It is rage at one's self for being selfless.

Remember. That twisting sensation that pervades your stomach is guilt. This is guilt for letting events, people and the world have their varied, obtuse, selfish ways and taking it all in stride. This is guilt for thinking that harmony begets success--no, that's supposed to be peace. This is guilt for hoping for peace when peace is meant for the dead or dying. It is guilt for bridging gaps when you should be making an impact.

Remember. That pervasive flush that crawls through your skin is discontent. This is discontent for lowering your standards for sanity's sake and instead finding yourself at the bottom. This is discontent for the irredeemable nights of toil, lost hours of heroism, and wasted instances of initiative that have all led to a place as extreme as it is undesirable. This is discontent for being content a little too soon.

Remember all these sensations. Feel the unsettling urgency to remedy this affliction, this blight upon your life. Let the sharp edges of these memories roil within you, and gash and cut against each other hotly until, like bright flintstone, crackles and sparks. Let all these thoughts and emotions come together. Then set it on fire.

And when you grow giddy with heat, and feel vibrant with flame, pour this energy out and into the world. That is passion. And passion, much like fire, does not choose its impetus nor kindling. It simply remembers itself, and burns.