Arder

There is one person I would like you to meet. Face to face, eye to eye – for an instant or two. With no strings attached, in particular. Only flames. I just want you to try not to burn in this random acquaintance, for you never shall know beforehand if he comes. If he touches you, turning to ashes.
Now I wonder if anyone could bear his touch…

He was born as we all do, unleashed through the transom – like some undeniable drift. Unexpectedly, he set the birth-bed on fire – there his mother departed to dead. And the father… they sought after him, but eventually found out him coaling the urn. Thus, instead of a background of life most people inhabit, fire-born put himself into series of troubled events.

Surely, you can imagine man’s soul as a bonfire. This person I want you to meet, can be fire itself. Being under my guidance, don’t wear any gloves or another protection, my friend, there’s one chance in a while – either ashes or sparkling hearth. No, you shouldn’t beware the streets and the watery lanterns, nor the houses of unspoken grieves and devious concerns – this acquaintance of mine is beyond the flourishing reasons of earthly diversions; rolling different planets in his handful of sooth. He is ardently ardering the ardorous space of arduous ardensity...   
Do you happen to feel?

Compliments, sentiments, denouements, revenants… is this the circle of life?
When you’re gazing at fire, he’s climbing the aerial ladder up to the high, even dying to ends. And he may, if you are hypnotized, wed everything ‘round to blaze. That’s how the spirit I need you to see holds his head: ever holding to step he stuck on – for respite – thence anew climbs the heaven.

There are so many roads to take… have you considered being maniac, my friend? Or just being dead… but, dead you are – if you envision flesh and world (this world of fake) are real. Run to the transom open wide and squeeze yourself through to become... un-born. It’s all reverse, just get it.
But he, the fire I do commend to take, is spiralled up.

Your vessel shall burn anyway, now or later. But, the risk is to sail afar. Much farther than flesh can imagine. Much farther than waves show the way. Much beyond the horizon, where stranger sun is bleeding, lamenting over the human one…
_________
Commit to yourself in the mirror.
On the 29th day of the moon...