I was

I used to tend my hearth well.

I would alot kindling and fuel for their proper times, not allowing unfettered or undercultivated passion.

My eyes would peer into the ashen embers, tuned to naught else.

I breathed the smoke and it tainted my skin.

My eyes stood out like pearls on my darkened countanance.

I was patient.

I was hopeful.

When in winter I needed fire, the snow and rain came.

When scorched by summer, you rose into a bonfire.

Naught was at rest.

Passion no longer gave me comfort under the darkened sky.

My fire-fixed eyes cringed at the light of any other.

I was uneasy.

I was angry.

I was addicted to the smoke.

I believed my ashy covering was my real skin.

In agitation, I threw the tongs into the fire,

Creating a billowing plume of grey.

The tumult forced me away from the fireplace.

I ran into a free air so foreign to my lungs.

I was free.

I was nameless.

I walked in the open for a while.

Breathed new kinds of air.

I assumed fire could only exist in darkness.

I had always been crippled by it's needs.

I thought it was meant to destroy and burn.

I was confused.

I was deceived.

I continued my walk and found fires flourishing in the light.

I found the need for you once again.

My timid feet wouldn't take me to one who would restifle my lungs.

I had to reach out in faith

That the burning bush would not consume me.

I was scared.

I was hoping.

Gentle heat lapped around my shaking hand,

A welcome whisper let me back into what was once familiar.

No longer an imposter, the true nature of fire was found.

More than I had irrationally hoped.

I found peace in your embrace.

I was patient,

My hope was fulfilled.

Now I know love will not enslave you.

I know those past passions were demons in love's clothing.

The deception in my ignorance, no longer can grow,

In the pure light in which I stand.

I'm not bound by eternal submission.

Love will set you free.

Love will set you as a beacon for the hopeless.