hours spent pursuing a version of a hidden self that used to scare me.

one that embodies my pains and my joys.

undiscovered, and bubbling from the rocky soil of a soul that still manages to be fertile at high altitudes and extremely high temperatures.

your light looks like lava.

and so does mine.

red tinted photons light my bedroom and it pleases me.

it reminds me of fires that we’ve learned to avoid from experience.

touched stoves become teaching grounds for optimistic toddlers who need swift lessons in life if they are to survive.

and become greater than the limits and constraints that the world looks so eagerly forward to placing on them.

don’t accept them.

from journeying across the Savannas, land bridges, Nile rivers and middle passages, searching for homes that were never meant to be constructed of wood, stone, earth, water or air…

…all that’s left for us is the blazing, beautiful, purging, fire.

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