for you

People come of course.  They bring flashlights, light matches, turn on cell phones, nothing helps.

Not really.  Which is not to say they aren't helpful or kind, truly they are.  But not in the way they think. 

This is a secret darkness no one else understands, their light does not work here.  They worry though.  As they should.


Polarities at play, this is miles away from the ocean you once saw in your teardrop.  Illusions, achingly real ones, left you gasping for air there. 

Not here.  This is the opposite of making something out of nothing.


You've been here before.  It's familiar, like camp.

There's even a campfire here, just for you.  Only for you.  You get close, it's good to feel warm.  You sing the camp songs, tell the stories, relive the memories.  It's a little bit different every time you come.  Different and familiar all at once.

In the end you stomp out the fire.  Kick dirt on the embers. 

All that remains is darkness and one ember that will not cool. 

Do you know what you don't know?  Do you know that fire can purify, forge, refine?

A bonfire lives within that ember, just for you.  A smoldering place, always, forever, as much a part of you as the color of your eyes.