I used to be afraid that one day my fire would no longer burn;
That the intensity of how i feel everything and everyone would fade;
And the passion in each positive, neutral and negative (re)action would cease to be.
I used to fear the day when my heart would beat an indifferent beat;
When my soul would go numb, and would go grey;
My tone, my sound, the echo of me would turn cold;
And my mind would become so willingly silent
that I no longer would recognize my very self anymore.
Now days and nights go by
Another set of candles get blown on yet another Valentine's day...
...And with its flame another inch of my own fire gets taken away.
Who am I, anyway?
And who was I, back before this day?
