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It was a brisk night.
It is a brisk night.
Truly what a night lies in the depth of my soul, deep in my chest.

If it could be called a soul.

I never thought it could. Soul always meant something entirely different to me. It was an inseverable connection with Creator. I have that too but it is not in the depth of me. Maybe it is more in the shallows, it would explain the intimacy we share.

Regardless, in the depth of me lay an entity completely different. Completely distinct. I believe Creator doth named it fire. Yes, He did and this fire was an inanimate yet so very vibrant an Inferno.

Sparks flew as my heartstrings ground together only to conflagrate that so very deep night. And never was I accused for allowing my heartstrings to grind too rarely.

In truth, rarely did they stop. Incessantly lighting in the night, my night, myself something that could never die.

But eventually they did stop and in the undying ash, something beautiful was created.

And as Inferno ceased, he left the soil of the night in such a fertile condition. And he sown in the soil the seeds I so very needed. The seeds of love, the seeds of life. And when it came time, the seeds sprouted in me strength. The strength to live and love with yes, such so very undeniable conviction.

And when the day came, I never fell into the night again.
And when the sun rose, in the depth of my night, deep in my chest was an oak that could withstand the strongest of infernos.




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