Fire of Self

Belief, they say, is a fire

a glow that burns the hollow night,

a lantern in the marrow of the soul

lighting paths unseen.

To me, you are the flame itself:

life, love, and spirit,

the pulse of heat that keeps me whole.

I am only the vessel,

the brass and glass,

the trembling frame that guards you.

For love, like belief, flickers

too much air, and it fades;

too little, and it starves.

They warn that obsession smothers,

that a cage cannot be love.

But I say obsession is devotion

a shelter for the fire,

not its grave.

Without a lantern, fire dies.

Without your light, I too would fade.

So let me hold you,

contain you,

keep you burning

not to bind, but to preserve,

my beloved flame,

my temple of belief,

my lanterned soul.