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~ By Courtesy of Others ~


At the Tree 

I said I feared the pain.
I was told one thing: "Burn."
I said I feared losing all I held dear. 
The answer was the same: "Burn."
I said I feared becoming a freak and an outcast,
or of losing myself, and my place in Midgard.
Again terse words met my plea: "It does not matter. Burn."
So I plucked three burning leaves
from the Tree that arose out of Time. 
After all, if He could give an eye,
I could at least attempt to dare the fire.
I placed these leaves upon my tongue,
this burning brand I swallowed. 
And the fire took me. It took root in my blood.
It consumed my heart.
I stood within its flame. 
And I burned. 
I have had no peace since, not a day
when my heart has not tasted of flame. 
Not a day when I have not shared His fate and His pain. 
It does not matter. He was right. 
The burning is sweet. 

Galina Krasskova, 2005

Image: meditative_2 by =OrgaNick: This work is licensed under a
Creative Commons Attribution-Noncommercial-No Derivative Works 3.0 License.


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