i used to have that growing fire in my heart, the way a small match could light up the black ink of night. and in the different corners of different rooms, it used to give hope emitted by a faint warmth that was never to burn or hurt anyone. it gave other people something to believe in--it gave me something to believe in.
i've seen it die countless of times, as every fire has its last breath of ember and smoke. and consumed by doubt, hesitation and fear, i find it hard to strike a match again. i find it harder to look inside for the kind of passion that touches people's hearts and make them have faith in something called life. why we all breathe and hurt and love and do the things we do. why our lives depend on the chances we take and leaps of faith, and why we start dying when we turn our backs from everything. why all these depend on what we want for ourselves and what we really think we deserve more than anything else.
and i wish and pray and hope for it. hope that someday soon, i'll be able to understand the reason why the last flame died inside my chest. pray that it would be brighter when i find it again, as the sun with the cloudless sky gives a feeling of freedom and clarity to anyone who would take their time to stop and breathe it all in. wishing that this time, the light would stay longer, burn longer, and live longer.
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