Frustration sits waiting like a small, unlit pilot light in the pit of my heart holder. What would normally make its way through like a wayward drifter on fire in the night escalates the situation until I feel consumed and I can’t help but react. I hate walls for their restrictiveness but they also act as a guide and tell me when I’m going in the right direction. Hasn’t been a path I’ve walked where something didn’t jump in way for me to hurdle. And the man on fire is always watching, looking for his opportunity to rip me out of my seat in quickanger, teethgrinding, fistclenching. But, without words, I know this is the path to go. With the increased difficulty comes more assurance. No opposition, no value. The man on fire is my enemy and my friend, he lights my path with passion and lights a blaze beneath me to keep me movin’.
Give me yer best shot, toss me the next wall. I’ll get past it and move forward with the humility to know that I need help sometimes. Just like everyone has his man on fire, everyone’s got their fireman. Drop that walking matchstick with a blast of straightforward, then let him help you up and move forward, man. You got the steps. You got it.