I had been tending a fire with my partner - low and steady - for two years in the darkness. It was warm, and comfortable, and gave off adequate light. We were nestled in a nice part of the forest by a stream with flowers and green grass. I was happy.
But my partner grew tired, and longed to see what the other parts of the forest held - so he ventured off into the dark. When he returned he overflowed with stories of different rocks and trees and mountains, and even other fires. He told me that he liked our fire, loved our fire, but not the part of the forest that it resided in. He concluded that we should move our fire somewhere else.
But our specific part of the forest is where I grew my berries - and I came here because they could not grow anywhere else. I liked this part of the forest, I had found it while exploring years ago. I had given up everything to come to this place, and I was not going to leave it for the temptation of something new. So I told him that he could wander all he liked, but our fire was staying here.
So my partner wandered and explored - and each time he came back, our fire was a bit lower, a bit dimmer - because now only one of us was tending to it. There came a point when our flame was so low that I had to huddle near it just for warmth. I became so consumed with keeping the fire alive that I neglected my berry crop and they all withered away. My partner saw this, and so one day, without warning, he threw water upon the flame and plunged us both into darkness.
I felt around for my partner in the dark - but he had left - off to explore the other parts of the forest. It was quiet, and so I sat for a long while in the night. I had forgotten how dark the world could really be when you are alone. I saw the trails of smoke in the distance coming up from other fires, but I did not want to leave my place. This was the world I had built, the world I left my original home for. I was not going to abandon it, or run after my partner. No, I was going to stay here - even if it was in the darkness.
It is quite hard to find your way when you aren’t used to being in the dark - and so I fumbled around quite a lot at first. I felt myself brush up against people every so often, and a few times a spark fell to the grass. But those sparks quickly died out, for neither of us gave any kindling.
It was on a particularly cold night, as I walked through the forest, that I crashed into a stranger. A spark, tall as the night sky, jumped up and blazed through the shadows. Both of us, confused at such a spark, grabbed some wood to catch it, and soon we had a roaring fire. It scared us, neither had ever seen a flame this large. We crept close, but not too close, for we both feared being burned. It raged, and blazed, and we watched in amazement as it did not die down - but seem to get brighter and brighter right before our eyes.
The stranger was amazed, and told me of how he had never seen a fire so brilliant. It was then that I realized how small my last fire had been - how low and calm it was. This flame danced and dived, flaring up into a thousand colors at any given moment. The stranger and I sat there for a long time, mesmerized by what we had created. After a while - he finally stood up:
“I do not want to leave this beautiful fire, but this place is not my home. I live by the ocean, and must return, for I fish in the waters,” He said.
I replied: “I live here, by these berries. If you stay a while until the fire dies down, I will show you how I grow them - surely you will like it.”
The stranger, intrigued by my world, agreed -and so we grew berries together happily by our fire. We basked in the light, drunk on the warmth that we had built. Time seemed to slip away from us - for every day felt like a moment. However, as the months passed, the fire did not shrink. Instead it seemed to climb higher and higher, feeding off it’s own beauty. We began to squint in the light, always aware of it, and it consumed our every thought.
The stranger loved the berries I grew, and even talked of growing them himself here one day. But when he spoke of the ocean and fishing and the warm sand - a certain smile came to his face. In the constant light of our flame, I looked at him often, and noticed that this smile only appeared when he spoke of the sea. Our flame was burning so brightly now that nothing could hide in the shadows. So one night I placed a pot in the stream, filled it with water, and brought it to the stranger.
Together we threw the water on our beautiful blazing fire. But before we plunged ourselves back into the darkness - I took a small flame from the fire, lit a torch, and hid it away inside my cloak.
I felt the stranger’s face and bid him goodbye. He slipped away into the darkness - off to return to the distant sea. As soon as he had gone, I pulled the torch out from inside my cloak, and let its little light illuminate my home. It was nice - not being in the dark. It was also nice not having to tend a fire. With the small torch in hand, I grew more berries than ever and soon my little area of the forest was bustling and blooming. My torch grew lower and lower, and soon I knew the darkness well enough that I was able to put it back in my cloak. There it simmered, barely casting any light, but still stayed warm against my chest.
Over time, people wandered to my home, and we built a few small fires - yet none of them quite interested me. I enjoyed them but they were all low and mediocre, none like the beautiful blaze that I had experienced before. Perhaps it was because I knew that such a magnificent fire could exist, that I held back from settling for simple flames that kept me warm. I hungered for more now, I wanted something beyond just convenience - beauty. But I wanted a beauty that was right for me, and my berries, and my part of the wood.
It was around this time that I was so happy that I began to wander - not searching - just observing. I had already found my happiness, and I was curious to see where others had found theirs.
I walked to the mountains, the rivers, and the lakes. I wandered the hills, valleys, and planes - until finally, I found myself by a distant sea. The air was calm yet brisk here, but this was not the place for me. It was as I turned back to return to my home...that I saw my stranger’s face by the light of a fire.
The torch in my cloak surged, the flame dancing, and I pulled it out so that it would not burn me. The small light drew the stranger’s eyes away from his fire on the beach and his face lit up with a smile upon seeing me. He waved, and I waved in return, quickly hiding my torch behind my back. His partner, who was tending their simple yet pleasant fire, did not see me - and so I stepped back into the shadow of the woods. As I fell out of his sight, I saw the stranger turn back to his partner. It was then that I noticed he too was hiding something behind his back: a small torch with a beautiful dancing flame.
A calm washed over me, a relief that he had kept our flame alive too. Yet as this calm settled in my fingertips - I realized that I could not carry my torch any longer. I knew the dark well enough - but I would never leave something so beautiful if it took no effort to keep it living. How could I find and be satisfied with warmth if I kept a torch inside my heart? We would go on like this, carrying these little flames, forever.
So, in this moment of calm, I placed the torch on the ground. I did not throw water upon it, but instead left it, perhaps for someone else to find. And with that, the night ended, for I had faded into day.
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