Yellow. Gold. The colour of my heart.
It is not possible to touch me.
It is not possible to reach into my core and pull out the fabric of my being.
It is impossible to touch me.
I have no real substance.
I am reaction in action.
I am myth made visible.
I am, yet I am not.
How is it , that I can be seen and I can be felt, yet I have no substance?
How do I know if I exist if I am not concrete?
How is it that I have consequences but no inception?
How can I be, but can only be known by my effects?
Who could conceive of only allowing a result to be in existence without a cause?

I have never looked at myself this way.
I have been very happy to describe myself by external things, like colour, temperature and radiance.
But now I look at myself and wonder:
Where is my substance?
Have I ever had substance?
Who caused me to not really have a me?
How is it that every other thing I know of has a definite form and takes up a specific space and actually exists?
But me? Who would have thought that my power is based on energies coming together in a certain way, and with a sudden shift of forces, whoosh!
Lights, camera, action,sound effects, smoke, fumes and pyrotechnics!
There are all the blueprints of my existence………
But where am I in all this?
It is like some cosmic joke.
All action built on something with a name, but there is no body for that name.
No real being. Just a consequence with attendant identifying forces.
How can power be based on something that does not exist?
It is like being the reflection in a mirror.
There, but not there.
I am fire and I have my name.
And I have heat and colour and energy
And I can dance before you with hypnotic grace and rhythmic charm.
And I can leap within seconds into a terrifying inferno of voracious force.
And I can bring life into you and I can smother life out of you
And I can be all these things-
Yet I cannot just be.
I am only a description.
That is all. At the end of the day, I am an empty non-entity with only a cloak hanging on an empty frame.

How can power be so much of nothing?
Ask me. I should know for I am fire.

Perhaps this is how it is for us all.
We see the result of ourselves but it is impossible to see on what the result is based.
We see our reflection, but we cannot see ourselves.
Maybe we are not really there at all.
Maybe all that there is left of us is our energy, recorded like history in a history book.
Perhaps the real us has long since departed to somewhere else.
Perhaps we are waiting to once more be attached to our results.
Maybe we have become adrift from ourselves and we are drowning in a sea of unconsciousness waiting to be reconnected to ourselves
So that once more we can feel authentic, real and with substance.
Perhaps one day, our self and our mirror image will merge and we will not have to rely on our consequences to know we exist.

Perhaps one day the fire that we are can draw our outward persona in
And forge us into an identity that is our true self.