You are a wildfire, they said
But how does such a fire exist within a well of water?
Can a home house both serenity and anxiety?
Can conservation and consumption walk in together through the same door?
Why then does the fire roam freely within?
Perhaps, I am a fish out of water
The fish that lays nest next to the birds.
Perhaps, one hand carries water and the other carries fire
Or maybe it is OK to be both the vessel and the waterfall?
To be both sides of the coin
Are we one thing and one thing only?
Are we incapable of waking up and being rainstorms?
Even when we have always brought the sunshine.
I am the wildfire that changes conditions
I am the wildfire of succession
The one that replants then waters
I am the one capable of eliminating and re-growing
I say to the mountain, “move” and it listens
And on some days, I water the fresh flowers
I am, however, never what disappears into thin air
Pushed by the wind back and forth
I am what has the power to shake the earth
And after all, it has been said that good things can come from wildfires too.
In the end, we all find ourselves.
I am a riddle. A 23 year old story waiting to be read.