The Fire Within

Ashes, Particles, and Burns

Author’s Note:

You’re about to enter an immersive experience.

We’ve been holding back our second collaboration for a long time now, and while better late than never, we wanted it to be worth the wait.

The audio is entirely sung by us, imi and James (HVR), complemented by a homemade video.

(imi: italics, James: bold)

Sub both of us.

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Well hello. So nice to see everyone again.
You know us. It’s HVR, though these days, it’s James.
And we all know, imi.

Are we ready, imi?

Did someone summon
a poet into the cypher tonight,
searching for truth in the old neon light?

Bring down the lights.
Shake the floor.
To all the haters?
Watch it burn.

Back where our memories
still seem to stay.
Where laughter and tears
found us night after day.

Strum the chords.
Crank the amps.
Light the fuse.
Let’s get them.

For what once was,
and what could not remain,
for the LOVE that survived
through every change.

Before the wind
sounded different,
there were no other sounds
before everything happened,
we were just particles

of dust,
scattered,
floating,

without shape.

Then
the world returned.

Everything
merged.

Yet

nothing
felt
whole
again.

I
landed
on earth,

yet
the ground
never reached
beneath
my feet.

I didn’t
mind.

I only stood there
somewhere between
never arriving
on a never-ending journey.

The ashes
hung an inch tall
from my cigarette
It turned into fire
and somehow I circled
right back to the flame.

Though it didn’t only burn outside of me,
most of the time
it burned within.

Sometimes it was anger,
rage,
revenge.

At times it was pain,
hope,
and regret.

I didn’t know
which way I wanted to watch my life burn
while time moved like aged wine,
gathering richness line by line.

Days felt rotten.
So did my joy,

It disappeared,

like something once sacred
was never revered.

The fire began tearing through my life,
while flames took everything within.
I gave it a spark at first,
something more to burn.

Until I was consumed by it,
by how much it revealed,
by how much it took away with it.

The self I thought I was,
The self I never got to meet,

The fire consumed all,
pulling at my laughter,
the curiosity carried
by my owl-like eyes,
the beauty within me
that people kept projecting
onto places
it never belonged.

It drained the oxygen,
set everything ablaze,
then spread beyond control.

I tried to extinguish the flame.
Let it die down.

Maybe I thought I had slowed it.

But it was waiting,
gaze drifting,
searching with curiosity
for a farewell that was never meant to return,

only me and my shadow
blurring the light.

Then suddenly,
I was engulfed.

I tried to quiet it,
calm it,
negotiate with it,
plead with it.

Please, stop now.
You’ve taken enough.
You burned through so much.
You win.
I give up.
What else do you need?

But fire doesn’t have a reason.

It simply spreads.
Fast.

One day,
I looked into the mirror
and no longer recognised
what was staring back.

It was my wound, burning inward
until everything around me caught fire.

But I remembered.

Before I was consumed.
Before I turned myself into ashes
Before too much burned away.

Fire doesn’t only destroy.

Fire purifies.

No matter how many sparks flew,
and they will,
oh, they will,
I learned to remain calm
within the smoke and flames.
the clouds pulling their curtains,
as I watched drizzle turn into storm
while the sun rose at the same time.

And there it was.

The blood-orange horizon.

Eyes up in the sky.
I watched the clouds
form into shapes.

Ashes became fire
somewhere between
day and dusk,

and something feathered
stirred in the ash.

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Please leave a comment. A restack goes further.

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If you’ve ever wanted to hear yourself reflected back through art, I also create custom songs, spoken pieces, and cinematic videos for my paid subscribers. Personal works shaped around their stories, writing, memories, or emotions, all voiced and brought to life by me.

If you're in the position to do so, please consider supporting me to help my dreams come true.

If not, you could also Buy Me a Coffee.

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If you would like to support me and are able, please consider becoming a paid sub for James (HVR). You could also Buy Me a Coffee. If you can’t, it’s free to subscribe and share.

I’m published. Please consider buying my book. I wrote it in real time from my phone while I was in Colombia, while my marriage and life were falling apart, and while I was so ill I wasn’t sure I would make it.

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See how it all began: