Flint and Steel
The flint strikes the steel and sparks fly. It takes many attempts to perfect the art of starting a fire, but with persistence flames are sure to ignite. As they do, the kindling crackles. These small explosions are of little significance to the large burst of hot, red glow which will soon appear, except for the fact that it is because of them (the kindling) that the fire was possible at all.
I've actually made a fire with flint and steel. It took a long time and it was very frustrating. But the outcome was exhilarating. I made fire. With flint and steel. The satisfaction of a job well done was exciting and fulfilling.
Sure, I could have used one of the many shortcuts or cheats to build the fire. I had a book of matches and a lighter within reach in my camping kit. But building that fire with flint and steel gave me a primal sense of pleasure. The right kind of kindling was key. We used the stuff that looks like little bunny tails, some moss, and, I think, even some old, brown pine needles.
We built another fire, he and I. Our fire was very much like that of the one created with flint and steel. It was hard work. It took a lot of persistence. It took the right kindling - and we had to try many different types before we got it right. It took time - and there were several times when we had the opportunity to cheat - to do it the easy way. But we didn't. We were patient and we were persistent. We didn't give up. There were many times when the sparks would fly and we thought, "Is it going to start this time?" But it didn't.
But when it eventually did - when our flame took, it burned hot and it lit up the sky. Suddenly all of the dark had become light and the crackling sounds were so loud that it could be heard from far away. It burned fast and vigorously. It was a strong flame, sure to stay lit over time. Scary and out of control it burned, with little intentions of dying down. It roared with might and overcame all around it.
That is what our love was like. Overwhelming, hot, vigorous, and mighty. It is such a shame to see something like that die out. It consumed the space in which it dwelled and left nothing behind but ash. The flint and steel were only the mechanisms with which to start the spark, the kindling to commence the flame. And all that is left is the ashes of the fuel that fed the fire. The dark shadowy existence of what had once been a beautiful fiery flame in the middle of the darkness.
I've actually made a fire with flint and steel. It took a long time and it was very frustrating. But the outcome was exhilarating. I made fire. With flint and steel. The satisfaction of a job well done was exciting and fulfilling.
Sure, I could have used one of the many shortcuts or cheats to build the fire. I had a book of matches and a lighter within reach in my camping kit. But building that fire with flint and steel gave me a primal sense of pleasure. The right kind of kindling was key. We used the stuff that looks like little bunny tails, some moss, and, I think, even some old, brown pine needles.
We built another fire, he and I. Our fire was very much like that of the one created with flint and steel. It was hard work. It took a lot of persistence. It took the right kindling - and we had to try many different types before we got it right. It took time - and there were several times when we had the opportunity to cheat - to do it the easy way. But we didn't. We were patient and we were persistent. We didn't give up. There were many times when the sparks would fly and we thought, "Is it going to start this time?" But it didn't.
But when it eventually did - when our flame took, it burned hot and it lit up the sky. Suddenly all of the dark had become light and the crackling sounds were so loud that it could be heard from far away. It burned fast and vigorously. It was a strong flame, sure to stay lit over time. Scary and out of control it burned, with little intentions of dying down. It roared with might and overcame all around it.
That is what our love was like. Overwhelming, hot, vigorous, and mighty. It is such a shame to see something like that die out. It consumed the space in which it dwelled and left nothing behind but ash. The flint and steel were only the mechanisms with which to start the spark, the kindling to commence the flame. And all that is left is the ashes of the fuel that fed the fire. The dark shadowy existence of what had once been a beautiful fiery flame in the middle of the darkness.
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