diagnosis
the youngster rubbed his eyes after what felt like the longest rest in his brief desert life. as the light gathered in his eyes and revealed his surroundings, he found that he was still in the light sheepskin tent that he travelled so far to reach.
his host was humming gently in the corner. and so the youngster said, “oh tabib, have you finally understood the source of the weight in my chest?”
the wizened face of the old man crunched into a wrinkled, knowing smile. and so he stopped his humming and looked back at his guest in thought. his ancient voice responded, “i am afraid God hath brought upon you an affliction i cannot fix with even the rarest of this valley’s berries nor the water from the freshest oases.”
the young traveller sat up in shock, hands holding his face. “oh no,” he mumbled, “then what am i to do?”
his waking hours were plagued with an ember in his chest that he could not fan out — a glow that was in reality quite warming, yet he feared the fire would come to swallow him someday. but alas his long-awaited journey to the renowned valley to ask about this condition seemed to be for naught.
“worry not, child,” the old tabib chuckled from his distant seat in the tent, “you hath been gifted with a great itch to give. my medicine will not aid you in the cause you seek.”
“and so, what is it that i must do?”
“share your fire; let your world glow.”
my fondness for you reaches heights i fail to comprehend
i am prepared to be devastated
may your world be in continuous everglow
