Blazing Is Fire

The fire is Blazing. Literally. I mean, the fire is Blazing. Blazing is the fire. Blazing steps out of the fire and becomes the ocean. He can do that kind of stuff. Then he steps out of the ocean and becomes a small teenage boy. He has dark shaggy brown hair and violet eyes. Freckles, and copper skin. He is wearing a grey and black striped button up shirt and one old pair of dark, boot-cut jeans. He drifts across the swamp in his not-so-good-shape combat boots and talks to me. He asks me why I am wearing a purple beanie. In response, I ask him why he is wearing purple eyes. He says touche, and flies off. Now, if you follow him in the stars, you can see where he’s heading. He wanders across the galaxy and lands on a very nice little place. The grass is the friendliest shade of gray, the trees are the coolest tone of black, and the sky is the cleanest color of white. He walks over to the sweetest looking dog and pats it’s head. It answers him with a light nibble on the head. This is Impossible. Impossible belongs to Blazing and Blazing belongs to Impossible. I belong to No One. No One belongs to me. I like it this way, because this way I can still be with all different people, but I’ll never belong to them and they’ll never belong to me. Like Blazing. I am with him forever and ever. Blazing is with me forever and ever, as well. This is a blog about Blazing. So prepare. Because Blazing will now be with you forever, too.