There is a fire that exists.Its origin is not my own.And yet,I spend my days as if it were mine. My fire, or so I think,Crackles in pleasureWarms in honorBlazes in accomplishments. This fire, my fire,Comforts with adulationEspecially when “doing good.”So why do I fear? There was the one,The one in the desert.Who spoke of fire,An unquenchable fire. This fire, I fear.This fire, I want.This fire torches my pride,This fire is Love.