The Flames within My Heart
The mind holds a power so fierce it becomes the inner flame that drives the body forward. But sometimes the heart burns in a way that does not destroy — it torments. A fire so relentless, so consuming, that a person feels trapped inside their own chest, as if cursed by the very emotions that once gave them life.
Yet even a suffering heart can feel the opposite of that flame when an angel enters their life — an angel sent by Yahweh Himself. In the beginning, the fire did not consume the man; it simply revealed how deeply he could feel, how silently the inner flame can burn without warning.
The pain he carried did not come from the flame. It came from people unworthy of his kindness — people who received his gentleness and repaid it with neglect, excuses, and betrayal. He prayed for them, even asked others to pray for them, yet they turned their backs on him and hid behind the claim that “God might put us back together” while offering nothing but distance and doubt.
The false woman — the Belle of the East, the traitor to the Servant — will one day cry when her temporary joy turns stale. Her belief in the man collapsed because he refused to bow to her demand for instant gratification. He wanted to build a bridge, but she burned the very materials needed to cross it.
Let those from her past shape her future, for she has chosen to look backward, like the woman who became a pillar of salt — frozen by her own refusal to move forward. She is not the promise God spoke of. She is not the covenant. She is the Belle of the East who revealed herself as a Jezebel in disguise.
The disloyal always smile after betrayal, but their smiles eventually collapse under the weight of their own choices. And when the joy they chased turns stale, when the thrill fades and the truth returns, their laughter will turn to tears.
Only then will they realize they were never the blessing — they were the sandpaper. They scraped, they wounded, they tested, but in doing so, they polished the man they tried to diminish.
He becomes refined. They remain discarded — used, worn, and thrown aside like something meant for a moment, not a destiny.
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