Fields of Fire

Unveiling what lies within.

The unwrapping of the fire.

Unfurling.

Blossoming.

Petals of the flower. Hard and protective on the outside, soft and smooth on the inside.

The release of fire.

A bursting forth of fire.

The excited bursting of fire. A raucous raging torrent of excitement. A party of fire.

Fields of fire.

But not consumed.

Is this not the fiery seed?

You think this is the burning of your seed but this is the field of fire.

Fields of harvest.

All around fields of fire.

In the midst of the dry ground a pulling, a pulling up, a pulling out.

Like a root out of dry ground, the driest ground.

The pulling up shall produce a field of harvest.

The provision of ground cover.

For this is my ground.

The pulling up of the harvest.

The accelerated growth comes from the pulling up.

An immediate fruitfulness.

Not a ploughed field, but a immediate harvest.

From an unexpected place.

Unexpected blessing.

The igniting of fire. Sparkles of fire. Bursting forth all around.

The sparks are merely seeds of fire.

Amidst the blackness the darkness a new figure appears.

Clothed in white, dazzling in white.

Placing the white finger on the black ground.

In a moment, in an instant, a pushing back of the darkness.

The birthing of the light in the darkness.

The stump sprouting forth a new growth. Expect growth in the dead place, in the buried place, in the least fruitful place.

The pressure downwards, causing an uprising upon the edge.

Like a bowl, the fluid containing the pressure.

Shrouding the flow, crowning the flow, placing the crown in your hands.

An illuminated edge within the flow.

I have overcome.