Fire in the Bosom/Veins

Chant with me, just a moment,
"I am me, I am, I will stay."
Plunging through the river,
Holding on to life.

They say, the burning is God,
Telling us it's okay.
But rushing through the fire...
I doubt his hand in this.

I've felt that fire, long ago,
When a white shirt and tie were mine.
Fighting sun, and rain and fire,
Just to raise someone a little higher.

A fire like that--purifying,
His intervention clear, the witness
And not so different than the fire,
Of another agent's plan.

Two fires, so different,
So similiar.
Bitter to feed the fire.
Sweet to balance the act.

A pilgrims wandering once tred,
Becomes the markings of trails
Crossing chasms of fire,
Leading to his hearth.

What's in a point?
What makes it sharp?
Solid to touch, pushing fire:
Into the veins, the hair, the sinew.

Burning from the blood,
Burning in the blood.
Fire raging inside the mind
"I am me, I am, I will stay."