Four

The flame burned with intent, hot and bright and enticing. It was an object of desire, a warm ambition to be embraced. To have it. To hold it. To simply be a part of that lustful sensation suggested by even its slightest wave. Too special to be shared, too personal to be given, a single flicker in time. It beckoned for one to cherish it as their own. That was the power of this flame, that the four now stared upon.

The first to the flame did so with absolute haste, enthused by his need for the flame, by his hunger to embrace what he saw before him. It would be his, and he would take it, and he would be happy. His arms plunged into the flame at once, grabbing at it, frantic, and before he had a moment to reconsider he was burnt, and scolded, and consumed.

The second to the flame hesitated, for he had witnessed the loss of the other, and knew now of its danger. He approached gradually, no less hungry, no less keen, but the closer he got to the flame, the warmer he became, and soon he turned and walked away, unwilling to make the same sacrifice as the first. He would remember his defeat, for eternity, and the awe of the flame to which he had succumbed.

The third to the flame knew also of the risk, but he now knew also of the loss, and he refused to suffer the same fate as the others. The flame was undoubtedly hot, but he would take his chances with a calculated determination. Slowly he took the flame, his arms protected by his cloth and his gradual pace, and for a time he felt that embrace, fulfilled that desire. But the flame was hot, and his deliberation made it no cooler, no easier, and it burnt through to him, to his core, until he had no hope but to drop it. He felt his own loss now, having held something so precious, and having felt it pass him by all the same. 

The fourth to the flame held close to his heart the suffering of the first, and the defeat of the second, and the loss of the third. He knew now that through its beauty, through its warmth and its majesty, the flame would burn, that it would consume and overwhelm. He knew it could not be taken, not quickly, not slowly, and nor could it be left. And so he approached the flame, as the others had before him, hoping he would be the last. He did not buckle at the heat, nor at the fear of the risk. And he doused the flame then, and cooled it, and as it withered and shrank, as its heat tapered, he saw that it was no less beautiful, no less magnificent, that he would embrace it all the same. The flame did not burn him now, as it had burnt those before and he found he could reach it, this once-dangerous ambition, and cradle it, and hold it dear.