* Flames of passion *
When I am filled with Hiraeth, I regard my own longing for the ineffable beauty of a heart known but not seen; a longed-for heart – deeply loved, but always over the horizon; a heart massively generous and overflowing with loving affection – but never in the same room as me.
Some days I may run, run, and I pick up speed and I begin to smile a secret smile to imagine the outline of my heart’s delight? This chase is always shadows in the water.
But what I am still aware of is the quality of my yearning – it is like golden flames.
When the flames come on strong and blind out my thoughts about the flames, I can allow myself to be still and observe myself aflame.
In such moments, when there is nothing standing between my passion and the experience of my passion, I see my heart is on fire with flames which consume nothing.
That my heart beats is abiding wonder.
My heartbeat continues to be perfectly sufficient for me to rise and fall; for my life to fall and rise.
The flames of my passion – exactly like the leaves on the tree – are their own reason for love to exist.