Racing and pulsing; screaming to get out. It rattles its restraining shackles like a prisoner dying to plea its innocence. Pacing up and down, backwards and forwards - the fire within me yearns to get out.
It emerged from the depths of the utter nowhere-ness of my soul; a dark, unexplored abyss of emotions. I have little recollection of its arrival, only that it was painful, exciting, emotional, bewitching.
As tempers flared I felt its release, its escape from the eerie grips of my chasm. The claws of emotional sanity, which held it firmly into place and which kept a perfect harmony within my psyche, had weakened and released this relentless, swarming mass of fury and frustration.
A vicious despot marked with soot-like stripes stalking a terrified schlemiel through a dank, leafy jungle; a hunter and its prey, a prowler and his victim, a fire and its fuel.
Therefore am I fuelling my own fire? Am I allowing myself to be the subservient jester under the rule of a mocking king? Or has this beast been relinquished for a purpose? Perhaps it is a sign that I shall no longer be the schlemiel, the jester, and the famished emotional faster.
Taming the previously uncontrollable fire with whips of will power and chains of command would be essential to reclaim my hope, my dignity and my sanity. It would be an immeasurable task but the satisfaction of the feat would be great.
The exploitation of my impuissance and naivety would halt abruptly. It is now my turn to capture the leviathan, carpe diem, and control the perfervid fire within me. .
