Thursday, July 7, 2011

Stromboli, the island with a heart of fire.

I fell in love with this island.  I was meant to stay one hour but missed the boat and stayed two days.  I fell in love with the dark water. The dark streets at night that reveal the brightest stars. The smoke that clings like a halo to the top of the mountain. I fell in love with a dark rooftop and a circle of new friends.  Alleyways. Salt. White walls and jasmine.  Colors. Heat.  There must be something powerfully magic about a place where the fire of the center of the earth bubbles to the surface and plunges into the sea. There is a fire in my heart that simmers, quivers, breathes.  Sometimes it is a quiet warm pulse. Sometimes it is a dragon. Sometimes it erupts. The volcano that is Stromboli took a liking to my fire, and invited me to stay the night.  I could not refuse.  She took me under her wing and amidst the deep coolness of sea and stars she whispered a roaring affirmation to my heart.  Sparks, flames, lava, ash.  A brilliant desire erupts from the depths to meet the sea, and the water burns with light as it falls in love with the blaze.

Dance. Always dance.