A tiny spark was once ignited
by an irresistible desire
to find art among ashes.
Passion burns inside my soul
and out my fingertips,
this sweltering heat causes
sweat to seep from my pores.
With each log thrown into the fireplace,
it arouses more flames
and it produces friction between hands
seeking its warmth.
But I dare not fuel the fire on my own.
I long for other’s glances to feed it;
though at times they also extinguish it.
(What if the flame does not rise
as high as their expectations?)
But still I crave its touch and
will continue to pursue it
with fervor.
I hope this fire never goes out.