The hands of the clock rang with the passing of time, in a large dark room lit by a fireplace, where small flames danced happily burning over the firewood until it was completely struck down, the rigid willow wood burned making small sounds.
Dance my little flame of fire, dance slowly! That from the chimney you will never be able to get out there, unless you can fly and be free, fly! Fly like the birds at dawn, fly after the wind, fly my dear flame before the fire in you goes out , fly to be free - whispered the voice from the darkness.
Looking calmly as the small flame of fire tried to trace its own path without the others, trying to fly, leaving the fireplace far away, the one that took away the fire from its interior, the one that dulls her and her splendor, the one that would never accept it for having a different idea, the flames were born to dance in the fireplace, it had always been that way from generation to generation.
What if she did not want to dance happily but to fly like a bird? It was really crazy to think that a flame flies high in the treetops, instead of spending all day dancing in the fireplace. The little flame thought about it, thought about it for days, nights, weeks, months, even years that seemed eternal, full of loneliness despite being accompanied by all the hundred fire around it, never resting from dancing while it danced pretending to be false happiness, However, its interior was consumed inside, looking with nostalgia at the stretch of sky that could be seen in the window on the right, dreaming of being there, rocking between the leaves of the trees, caressing the clouds, flying until the end of the sun, challenging nature to coexist, believing that for some reason she must have been born with wings instead of burning and destroying, but she had been told so many times that nature was never wrong.
If only he could fly away from the chimney, he would travel the world, take it in his hands and quench his thirst, his hunger to go further, he would run after the wind, he would know who he really is, he would fly with the birds at dawn, he would touch the sun with her hands if only she could get out of the fireplace, if she could only fly, she would know something more than the fear of thinking about what the other dancing flames would think of her, she wanted to escape, run quickly, breathe deeply and scream with all her strength that despite being a living flame of fire she could be a bird that rises in the sky and goes with the current of the wind, but she did not move, she simply looked at the window in the distance before losing sight of it and going down her gaze to continue dancing slowly while little by little the fire inside her was extinguished, dying inside, shining outside.
But nobody in the room noticed it, because nobody cared, they just followed the same pattern that had been marked previously, following the authoritative imaginary line of nature, as things should be, and nothing more.
“Because we always carry that flame of fire within us that wants to fly and be free, breaking the natural pattern of things.”
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