To Burn

There's a stillness where the poem begins. There's a silence where the song arises. There's a resting where the dance is born, a wonder where science starts its inquiry, a thirst only quenched by giving. There's a hollow core in your heart that flowers with radiance, spilling over as your world. Every breath wants to lead you there. Follow. Don't wait another day. Please remember, these places are the same place. One writes, one sings, another dances. One serves the poor, one studies the plants, and one is a scholar. All are inspired by the same fieriness, a single flame that wants to burn everything up in thanksgiving. Jesus pointed to this fire, Mohammed pointed to this fire, Krishna pointed to this fire, your Mother gave birth to this fire. The name doesn't matter at all. What matters is to burn.

Painting by Freydon Rassouli