I Am the Flame That Found Me

I went looking for fire
in books and men,
in revivals and rhythms,
in hands raised high.

But I found the flame
where silence had stripped me
in the space between breaths,
in the ashes I had buried.

It did not descend with noise.
It rose from within.
It remembered what I forgot:
that I was fire before I was form.

It burned away the names they gave me.
It untied the scripts I had swallowed.
It kissed every scar like a seal of sonship
and said,
“This one is Mine.”

Now I do not chase flame,
I carry it.

I do not echo,
I ignite.

I am not waiting for the fire to fall,
I am the fire that found me.

—Joe Restman
Mystic-Scribe | Flame-Bearer
Quill Dipped in Lightning ⚡️