I was sitting in a rocking chair with a pen and diary in my hand. It creaked as I rocked it back and forth. The room was silent and had a dim oil lamp which accented its decor with a beautiful yellow. The room was silent, but my mind was not! In my mind, there was nothing but chaos, uninvited noises and fear. Chaos because of all the time that I had wasted, noises of taunts that came from unmotivated mouths and fear of failure. I sat there silent and allowed my pen to run on the paper, to run far away from whatever I was experiencing.
The last drop of the oil in the lamp crackled as its soul rose up, burning with a bright yellow flame. The insects stayed there, being silent spectators to the departure of their love. The room started loosing its yellow accent as the fire blew out, handing over the throne to the moonlight.
I frowned. I was disappointed. It seemed as though the lamp was mocking my situation and the chore of reigniting the fire was a token of this mockery! I kept my pen and diary on the table, folded my arms and sat there for a while, staring into nothingness.
Drops of water trickled down the faucet. The last flock of birds flew back to their homes. The clock struck ten. The night had just begun its journey to rest in the dawn. I had just begun my journey to thrive in the burning fire of my ambitions. This thought prompted me to jump out of my brief meditation and surrender to the demands of the lamp.
I picked up a match box, some oil and started the fire. At first, it hesitated, as though it feared that it would not be able to fill in the shoes of its predecessor, but then, it chose to embrace its fear rather than fighting back. The fire allowed the fear to fuel its will and burnt even brighter than the one before it. I stood there for a while, with a smile on my face and a hope in my heart. A hope to embrace my fears just like the fire did!