Nourishing a Flame

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I have a problem with giving.

Why, that is not a problem. It’s a great thing!

The whole world should be more giving,

Is what they tell me.

But I give until it hurts.

I carry the flame of others

So that they will not burn.

Yet each flame scorches my skin

Because I will hold on to it,

Even when the candle has already burnt out,

Even when my skin goes up in flames

And reveals my bare bones.

I keep giving to become the source of the fire.

Full aware that I will eventually become ashes

Just to know that I am the one that made that light glow.

I try to warn myself:

You are playing with fire

And it always ends up playing you

The sound of your own flesh crackling all while you

Continue to play with a fire that should not be played with.

It should be contained by the one who originally lit the match,

And I have never been the match for it.

But I continue to take it upon myself to

Nourish the flame all while ignoring that

The more that the fire glows,

The less of me there will be.

Because fire incinerates everything in its path to become brighter

And once it reaches its peak, it turns into smoke,

Transcending into the air,

Forgetting that I was once ever there.

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