By Lataurus Black
You are awake, and I am here. Even with your eyes closed, lying in bed, your heart remains awake, restless. As the voices of life slow down and you wrap yourself in the comfort of your bed, I remain sitting atop the mountain in silence.
The roads here stay untouched, free from the hum of cars or the rush of bikes. These unpaved and serene streets invite only the wandering of hearts, not minds.
Only those with wandering hearts can find their way in this hidden solitude of the mountains.
A fire, its flames dancing in the wind, has been burning for two years and ten days. From the distance of the dark indigo sky, the fire is seen as the stars revive themselves, its light flickering like a distant memory. Each night, the fire whispers my hopes into the darkness, its warmth reaching out like a signal, yearning to touch the soul of the one it burns for.
But you are awake. Only if you close your eyes and let your mind slip into the darkness can you feel the warmth from the fire burning for you. Yet, you remain awake, even as my words creep into your window. They weave through the silence, whispering my truths, while your heart beats slowly, lost in its rhythm.
Under the starlit sky, on this chilly night, I sit. My only warmth comes from the fire I’ve tended so carefully. The flames flicker, casting an S.O.S. message to your heart—a beacon of my unwavering hope. I hope you notice me in the streets as you walk through your day and in your dreams as you sleep, as the wind calls out to you, drawing you closer to me.
Each log I place on the fire is a silent prayer, my words weaving through the forest, gliding over the waters, and seeking their way to you. How many nights have I dreamt of you? Do you ever ponder who tends the fire atop the mountain? Do you remember when you first saw the flames? You gave yourself time to let your heart register what your eyes were seeing, your heartbeat racing as if your spirit was missing its vessel.
The wind slips down the mountains as you watch, threading between the shadows and silhouettes like a whispering ghost in the twilight. My words could not find you that night as you hid behind a frosted glass mirror, looking out through eyes that weren’t truly yours. You fooled the world, blending in with faces in places where your spirit could not live freely, unable to emerge without judgment.
Behind those borrowed eyes, you concealed the truth of who you are, dimming the light of your soul to hide within the crowd. Fear kept you from shining, so you pretended to sleep with your eyes closed, listening as the wind carried the rain tapping on your window, my words begging to be let in. But confusion held you back. The person lying in your bed looked and smelled like you, walked and talked like you, yet something in her eyes betrayed the truth—she was merely a reflection, a shadow of who you once were, lost in the echo of who you were meant to be.
She wouldn’t let you sleep; she feared what you might see if you dared to open your eyes. She wouldn’t let you love, terrified that if you stepped out from behind the frosted glass mirror, you’d feel the sun’s warmth again and remember the freedom of your heart. Instead, she fed your mind with reality TV, with fake people who walk away after eight weeks with love that is empty, but it’s all for your entertainment.
She surrounded your mind with like-minded people, their bodies so numb they wouldn’t even flinch if my flames touched their skin. My words swirled in the wind like leaves in the fall, but they failed to touch them as I cried out into the hollow space where they lay. If you could listen closely, you might hear my flames ache while my heart desperately searches for you.
As the rain continues to fall, I shield the flames with trembling hands, protecting the light that promises to thaw your frozen heart behind the frosted mirror. My only mission is to keep the fire of my dreams alive as I wait, giving words to the winter wind. Using the last of my hope, the core of my soul, and the embers of my flame, I trace these words onto the mirror that shields you, yearning for them to pierce the veil and touch your deepest fears.
And then, the day comes. The day I felt your hand in mine, I saw you for the first time untrapped by the walls that kept us apart. My words were lost, but now they are found. They are the key to unlocking the love I’ve always had for you, breaking down the walls that have kept us apart, and finally letting us both be free.
In this new world, we pull over to watch the sunset, the last ones left in a world of wondering faces. In my arms, you can finally dream. No longer are you awake, drifting through endless nights alone. Here, you are cherished, held by a love that will protect you until the morning light.
So, let’s plant trees with seeds of love and reshape this world in your heart’s image. Please break free of her grip and allow the roots of love to take hold, transforming every barren place within you into a paradise of your own making—together, with love.
As the rain continues, I close my eyes and let my dreams, my last hope, merge with the sound of the wind. The fire suddenly flares up, consuming my final hope, but instead of despair, my heart feels a strange calm. I have become one with the mountain, the fire, and the wind; my spirit melds into the elements.
The fire dies out, and with it, I disappear, leaving only a whisper in the wind that echoes through the valleys.
Three years and 30 days.
You arrive too late, finding only the ashes, but as you kneel beside them, you feel a warmth, as if my love still lingers. You begin to smile, realizing I had always been with you, even when you couldn’t see me. With your head in your hands, your tears start to fall and rehydrate the ashes of my memory. My face forms from the dust. Your eyes meet mine, no longer separated by the walls we once knew.
Hello,” I whisper as my presence lingers in the wind, now a part of you forever.
Words that live in the wind!
