Eight: The Flicker in the Flame

 Va-va-voom, an egocentric kaboom. The vanity tastes bitter, appearing unappealing. I choke on what little hype I have left for myself, wash it clear upon closer inspection. Gentle soap and warm water. There is, I guarantee, no one more well matched for you than you to yourself. A pint-size mound of perfection that pops out the provider like some giddy little groundhog. You will not remember the magic that emerged into existence and space. A whole collection of history and dreams and unknowns embodied in you, with no physical realm for archival. A story in the making, only wanting to be told and appreciated, though only your end is guaranteed. 

So soon, too soon, do we migrate to living more for others than ourselves. The inner child is neglected, with little playtime or curiosity left for yourself. Praise, acceptance, approval, all dumbfounding bullshit as it is the same give and take thrown around in such meaningless masses. You learn to love how good you feel when it is handed to you. Someone recognizing your spark, fanning your individuality, seemingly better than the fire you have had ignited since your first breath. You become hooked. The Light, a flickering flame unique only to you becomes consumed in the great and growing fire. Burning down a past long laid, swiftly and selfishly clearing fertile land for the most delicious meat. The great fire, Expanse, will take you. In your overconcious attempts to escape it, you will only end up fooling yourself, festering in black and white coals. Acknowledgement and your first contact into the communion of genuine self love can preserve you. The remaining story arch before your ending you presumed unreadable. The child is given shelter to weather the wildfire. You cannot be taken with the will to give yourself to the Expanse, the untamable giant of fiery fate that surrounds your tiny little universe contained in skull and skin. The flame of many is home. It is you who can choose to enter, or allow yourself to be burdened in the burn. Raise and maintain yourself - reflect: why should you care about opinions you have no control over? 

Still, you do.

And yet here you are. 

You stand with the Expanse.

It thanks you for stepping, for your willingness, for your ability to

contribute.

Taking stride outside your mind and into the hive. The heart of another, the heart in the center of this earth you gravitate on. The complex system of blood and water that runs and runs until it can no longer. Actualizing imagination, the underdog, the unrecognized superhero. A world by your design. Attempts at recreating, mirroring such an established world renders you nowhere close to the dream that was once you as you are now a formed phenomenon. You are a reality first and foremost, and the deceiving illusions will follow. Use them as a tool and be cautious of trickery. A social yet distant love affair you sip and don’t shoot: less risk, less reward. 

It was not only sleep that was missed but rejuvenation, the receiving, the return of all the energy you share with gas guzzling entities. Detaching to embody a world all new. The less you dream, the more reality you see. Face the fact that it cannot always be sunshine and rainbows outside of the garden you cultivate for yourself. Still I sleep, and in slumber I seek that realm in which I can share with you. Not a clue what to say as I begin to paralyze, looking into eyes like shooting stars. Blinded by disbelief, the frog freezing in fear. I remember the fantasy could be half the fun and should it fail, draw in and run. Run not from you but rather forward, to refocus and find my way back to you: the goal. Harnessing the help that presents itself in a slithering system of support. Now I return to the unwanted moment I wake. The real me, reclaimed by reality. There, though not (yet) in my grasp. I travel in search of you night and day, day after day. Can you, would you, find an intersection to meet and lean in? Settle in for now and hope for another day. 

No matter which way, and every single day…

Here you are again. You are the arrival.

Here? How? It has changed. Eyes that gaze while some part takes root. What is it to you, that place you go to in your mind? Worlds and some away, while in your world I fall tired. Ready to go back to the plane in which I am freed. A shame with such a shock it startles the self right back to start. If the game ends, will you play again? Wake up! You are in multiples, multiple times over and in. Oh if worlds could collide, how easy it would be to harness my stride. Destruction but a lucid dream with the peculiar power to recreate. I suppose I will stay ready, open and active and will no longer simply wait on the other side. I fiercely seek your vitalizing touch, our meeting in reality, physicality and spirituality to refill my cup so that I can pour it back into you.