We're all just little embers. Small lights twinkling in time with one another. Our flames grow and fade in sync. God is our lighter fluid, upping the dosage every chance He gets. His all-knowing fingers dance around us, sprinkling desire and temptation in our paths. That lighter fluid--those drops from God or maybe the devil--they're every baby's anti-freeze. So sweet, so full, until a while later you're choking on it. The strongest of us remain embers as our beautiful poison rains down on us, taking only enough to survive.
Burn slowly.
The rest, the majority, we live for the fuel, that poison. Desire tastes so good. Consuming until our flames touch the onyx of the night sky, sparks trailing miles from their homes. But once we've tasted, once we've grown, we've licked up all that lies in our path.
Burnt out our lives.
What goes up must come down, and our desire brought us so high. Now we're choking on that sweetness, only this time there's no oxygen left.

You've picked your poison little embers.
Glowing fires.
Worthless ashes.