Consumed

Somewhere in between 
the mundane and supernatural,

Is discontentment with myself,
And everything that's practical.

There must be something more ahead.

This can’t be all there is!

Wouldn’t the desire be dead

If it contradicted His?

If the One within my heart

Perceived its true desire...

Would He cause to cease the spark?

Or would He fan the fire?

Then the answer comes
as breezes cause the trees to sway,

And looking down at ashes low,
I see them start to blaze.

The soothing warmth and light sustained

Have left me to assume,

He built it there and feeds the flame.

O, may I be consumed!