by Roger Dale Trexler
I see it burning in the distance. A warm, red, inviting glow. It is always there, just out of reach. I reach for it anyway. I have no choice. Not to reach would be tantamount to surrender, and I am not ready to surrender.
But I have been burned by it before. It is the worst kind of burn; a burn that does not heal. A burn that leaves a scar on your soul. A damage that cannot be repaired.
I reach for it again.
I long for nothing more than to draw it close to my heart, nestle it until it becomes a part of me. Only then will I feel whole.
I turn away, afraid. But I must be strong. I need to be strong. I look back. It burns. It burns with warmth beyond heat. It is so alluring, so desirable. It is something that everyone longs for, but so few ever achieve. I want to achieve it. I want to be the exception. Can I please be the exception, God?
I reach out. It is so close now. So terribly, terribly close. Electricity dances through me as I draw near.
I am afraid.
Will it be right this time? Or will it be just another burn on my heart?
I don’t know, and that is the hell of it.
It is love and I must reach for it.
….Even if it burns.