On a warm and bright summer’s day, two children played in the tall grass. Hide and seek, tag, all of the usual games. After their games, they dumped all of their toys, includin’ a detectives play set down on the ground. They skipped rocks across the lake, and then afterwards – when they had had their fun and were tired – they lay down in amongst the grass and looked up at the nothingness above them.
They had worn themselves out so much that soon they were snoozin’ fast in the grass, oblivious to the world around them.
Meanwhile, the summer light caught like a glint in the magnifyin’ glass that was part of the detective play set and the grass beneath it got hot. Still they slept.
Soon, the grass lit into embers. These embers, if managed properly, could have been put out, and the children kept safe. But still they slept.
The embers grew into a fire, and the fire grew into a blaze, and by the time the children awoke and noticed, the blaze had grown into a towerin’ inferno.
And what can two children do to fight against a towerin’ inferno?
Nothin’.
There is a man in Olympus who sees himself in this story. His wife and children died in a blaze, but more than that the fire that killed them was the tippin’ point. The magnifyin’ glass that set the embers alight. And soon the man was consumed, as the embers grew into a fire, and the fire then burned into a blaze, and the blaze became an inferno. The man could have awoken himself from the livin’ sleep his grief had put him in, but he was too removed from the world to notice. And by the time he noticed, the embers were that towerin’ inferno.
And what can a normal man do to fight against a towerin’ inferno?
Nothin’.
The spread of fire is best tackled early, at the root. The Burned Man did not act early, and he let the fire gain control. The problem now is that he can no longer get to the root of the blaze, and his options are limited. The fire has ripped through the meadows of his soul, and left only a barren, charred landscape, infertile and unable to grow. And without growth, he can never heal, and without healin’ he will forever be trapped in that inferno caused by his own grief, instead of livin’ the life his family would have wanted for him.
It truly is a shame that The Burned Man cannot see that he has sealed his own fate. But his scars become more permanent by the day, and the inferno rages on around him. Untameable, unflappable, and only really doin’ damage to him.
The rest of us figured out long ago how to keep the embers away from ourselves.
We’ve all felt loss and grief, Burned Man, but the difference is we’ve dealt with it. I’ve fought my own fires, but it looks like there is just one more inferno for me to tackle.
Because I’m no normal man. And you’re the root cause.