I walked this road with fire in my hands.
Not as a threat,
but as a memory of the spark
that once lit the sky inside me.

Each step scorches softly-
the earth remembers
where passion has passed.

I carry no map.
Only this flicker
that refuses to die
even in the wind.

People watch from windows,
mistaking the glow for danger.
But this is not destruction-
this is survival burning bright.

Some walk with silence.
I walk with flame.
Not to burn the path behind me,
but to light the way ahead.