What a difference a day makes. I have heard those words and never felt the full impact they can have. Truly, what a difference a day makes. I have run the gamut in a 12 hour period. Low to lowest, to struggling, weeping, fighting back, standing tall, final victory. In 12 hours I have run a circuit that is usually, at minimum, 48 hours. But as I have worked though my demons, my past, the ghosts that haunt me, each battle becomes easier, quicker, more defined. Today was what I am hoping was the final battle, the cataclysmic climax, the death blow, my knock out punch. I cannot say today was easy, but it was worth the fight. It was cathartic, freeing, empowering. And I am victorious. I am strong.
Today my firestorm was called to the fore, a cleansing, purging fire. Flames caressing my spirit as they lashed out and turned to ash the ghostly fragments of a past I have been fighting to shed. The ash, gray and fine, catches in the wind and scatters, disappears into the distance. My fire gave me strength, lent me energies I had never known I could access. The warmth cradled my battered soul like a caring mother, the flames caressed my spirit like a passionate lover, the heat engulfed my mind, the scorching winds lent power to my voice. I was the flame, the flame was mine. My fire was my power today.
Now, flames ebbing, flickering blue and gold, hypnotizing, calming. peaceful. My fire is banked for the moment, reclaimed from the inferno that saved me. The warmth soothes my soul, and is a balm for my battered spirit. Flames that burned to ash are now healing. I will crawl beneath my down comforter, let it wrap around me like a lover's arms, cradle my fire to my chest and let it seep into my bones. I will find the bliss of sleep tonight, knowing tomorrow holds no more war for me, this battle is done. I am victorious.