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The Fire of the Fury

Sounds of summer and yet here I sit on the cusp
of Solstice
and I claim it now.

I cannot go back and change what has been so I claim it
now.

I allow the fire of the darkness to consume
the anger, to alchemize it into something more.
The anger, the root of it, go nowhere – they are,
always, and never will not be and yet –

Ah, and yet, all the possiblity they make way for
because I cannot change and so long as I sit
and simmer in the anger of what was, I feel
something immovable and so,

I move, I move the anger into the flame, I let it
build, I allow. I sit with it until each cell of
my being is hot to the touch
white heat, the flame dancing, rising
until the flame is no longer a flame
the anger is no longer anger

It has become the Fire of Fury
and it rages in all the ways the anger,
heavy as stone, could not

The Fire of Fury dances, sways, transforms,
and on the other side of anger,
I find purpose
On the other side of that which I cannot change,
no matter how hard I will it away
I find purpose

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