Torn between the right and the desirable, I ache to turn towards to fire but My infinidecimal wisdom tells me to back away. I'm not ready. My heart is weak, my brain washed Into believing what I need is among the ashes. But ashes fly away on the wind, carried away To other lands, into other hands not my own. Deep inside my aching heart, the knowledge resides: Until I'm strong enough to stand alone, I cannot find a crutch to help me stand. But once I have this crutch, I am fireproof and can embrace the flames.