Nascent Inferno

Hidden deep
banked by years
disappointments
wrong turns, responsibilities,
expectations, duty,
good-girl rules,
well-meaning advice,
are these:
the smoldering fires of dreams.
They are smoking, burning through.
I see the flames licking at the edge of my aching imagination.
I smell the incense of my true soul burning sweet and fearless.
I hear it crackling, racing through the dry, dead underbrush of my fear.
I blow tenderly on these embers;
this is the fire I will tend.

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