i am not lost

it was about 2 in the morning when i awoke. not from sleep, per se, just awoke.
it's been so long since i felt like "me". i took my long green dress out to the garage and debated about the safety of my little excursion, but pressed forth nonetheless. there was only about 2 inches left in the less than airtight glass bottle, but certainly enough fuel for at least two burns. i took my virgin staff, the red and black taped one i got for last year's birthday, and soaked each wick for a minute. that should do it. i walked out past the ridiculously brown hedge separating our duplex from the neighbor, and flicked my bic. the wicked roared to life, nearly singing my hands and i grabbed for the center of the tape. the staff is about 5 feet long but has 2 inch wicks that burn like a motha, so away we went! i can smell the charred flesh and burning bushes still! i walked quietly to the center of my suburban street and started to firedance for the first time in a year. it felt rusty, slow, awkward at first. then my grooves returned, easily in a rush. the fuel roared in my ears, i squatted and fought the night with flames, jumping and striking out for a good 5 minutes before they gave their last light and i was covered in a long forgotten sweat. it was a joining of worlds, a bridge between the old life and the new. i welcomed this with a glad heart, and remembered that i am not lost.