Confessions - Fire

I quite like the danger. Of flirting with fire.

Down South, there is this cult of Goddess worshipers which holds an annual festival. The grand highlight of this temple festival is the walk through fire. A pit of fire is prepared, with dedication, with reverence. Fuel added, fanned, fed. The fire is nurtured, with love. Never allowed to blaze, to burn out. The heat, the embers build up over days to a climactic culmination on the day, nay, the night of the commemoration. And also arrive the "chosen ones". What thoughts sustain them as they walk through the fiery pathway, I know not. What passions drive them to plunge every step through this fervent undertaking; what permits them to cast aside every thought of self preservation and walk the Fire.

Perhaps I do. I have been in Love. I have walked the Fire. I have flirted with the knowledge and the ignorance of the next day, the next hour, the next moment. What turns this kaleidescope may take, what hell or heaven it may lead me to - I know not. But that's perhaps exactly what I am in love with. The lack of safety, the vulnerability. Am I challenging myself? Or am I destroying my semblance of sanity?