The Birth of the Fire by Dr.Lal
In the heart of a kingdom ringed by mountains and seas, there lived a girl named Selene. She was born with eyes that reflected both the sun and the moon, as though her very being was destined to walk between light and shadow.
From her earliest days, she felt a strange fire inside her chest. It was not a hunger for food or a thirst for water—it was something more elusive, a yearning that no explanation could fully satisfy. She longed, without knowing exactly for what.
Her mother called it desire, whispering, “This fire in you is a gift. But remember, child, fire must be guided, or it can consume.”
Her father added, “Desire alone is blind. Destiny must meet it, like a river meeting fire to create steam that turns the wheels of the world.”
But Selene was too young to understand. She only knew she was restless, like a bird who dreamed of skies it had never seen.
The Call of the Flame
One night, while gazing into the hearth fire, Selene heard a voice flicker through the flames:
“If you wish to find your destiny, follow the fire of your desire into the world. But beware: the path is neither straight nor gentle.”
The next morning, without hesitation, she packed a small satchel—bread, water, and her mother’s amulet—and set out beyond the mountains. Though her parents wept, they knew this was the way of all souls: to chase the fire until it revealed its purpose.
The Valley of Shattered Dreams
Selene’s first steps led her into a valley filled with broken statues, each one half-finished or abandoned. Some were grand, towering figures of kings, queens, and gods, their heads missing or their arms shattered. Others were tiny, incomplete, discarded like forgotten toys.
A weary sculptor sat among them, his chisel dull, his hands blistered.
“Why have you abandoned your art?” Selene asked.
The sculptor sighed. “My desire was strong, but my strength failed. My hands grew weary, my tools blunt. Desire without endurance leads only to fragments.”
Selene felt the truth of his words. She placed her hand on one of the shattered statues and whispered:
“Even broken dreams carry beauty.”
The statue glowed faintly, and for a moment, the valley seemed less sorrowful.
The whispers of the valley told her:
“Desire sparks the beginning, but only persistence carries it to destiny.”
Selene walked on, carrying endurance in her heart.
The River of Reflection
Next, Selene came upon a river as clear as glass. When she gazed into it, she did not see her face, but a thousand versions of herself—queen, beggar, healer, warrior, lover, sage.
Overwhelmed, she cried out, “Which of these is me? Which is my destiny?”
From the river rose a silver heron, its feathers shimmering.
“All are possible,” said the heron. “Desire is the wind that sets you in motion, but destiny is the current beneath the river. You must choose which winds to follow and which to release.”
Selene asked, “How do I know which desire is true?”
The heron dipped its beak into the water and dropped a single shining droplet into her palm. “The true desire is the one that does not fade, even when denied, even when delayed. It is the flame that no storm can extinguish.”
Selene held the droplet close, and in it, she saw an image of herself standing before a radiant tower on a distant hill. Her heart leapt with recognition.
She knew then that some desires were fleeting sparks, but others were sacred flames—the ones that aligned with destiny.
The Desert of Shadows
Her path grew harder. Selene wandered into a desert where the sun scorched and the nights froze. Here she met travelers who staggered, clutching at mirages of gold, fountains, and cities of pleasure. Their desires burned them, leading them in endless circles.
One man fell at Selene’s feet, his lips cracked. “I chased wealth, thinking it was my destiny. But the more I grasped, the farther it fled.”
Another woman wailed, “I chased love that was not mine, and it turned to dust in my arms.”
Selene realized that not every desire was sacred. Some were illusions, shadows that lured souls away from their true paths.
She raised her mother’s amulet and whispered, “Guide me to desires that nourish, not consume.”
The desert winds shifted, revealing a hidden well. Selene drank deeply, and the whispers of the desert said:
“Sacred desire leads you closer to destiny; hollow desire pulls you farther away. Learn to tell the difference.”
The Tower of Becoming
At last, after years of wandering, Selene reached the tower she had seen in the droplet’s vision. It rose high into the clouds, shimmering with light, each stone carved with ancient symbols.
But the entrance was sealed by a great iron door. Inscribed upon it were the words:
“To enter, offer the flame of your desire.”
Selene trembled. She had carried this fire within her since birth—this yearning that had guided every step. To give it up seemed like surrendering her very self.
Yet she remembered her father’s words: “Desire alone is blind. Destiny must meet it.”
With tears in her eyes, she pressed her hand to her chest and released the fire. It flowed from her like a stream of light, entering the door. The iron dissolved, and the tower opened.
Inside, she found not treasure, not crowns, but a mirror of starlight.
In it, she saw her journey—the valley, the river, the desert. She saw every choice, every pain, every joy. And she saw that her desire had not been in vain. It had been the thread leading her to this very moment, where destiny revealed itself.
The mirror spoke:
“Desire is the seed. Destiny is the flower. One cannot exist without the other. Your longing was not random—it was the compass of your soul pointing you home.”
The Return
Selene descended the tower transformed. The fire that once burned restlessly in her chest now glowed steadily, like a hearth that warms without consuming.
When she returned to her village, people gathered around her, sensing something radiant about her presence. She became a guide, helping others listen to their desires, sift the sacred from the hollow, and trust the current of destiny beneath their steps.
And whenever someone asked her how desire and destiny were connected, she would smile and say:
“Desire is the whisper of destiny. It is destiny calling you before you are ready to hear its name. Follow it with courage, refine it with patience, and surrender it with trust. Then destiny will unfold—not as something distant, but as the life you are already living, sanctified.”
Epilogue: The Sacred Connection
Years passed, and Selene grew old. On the night of her final breath, the silver heron returned, standing by her bed.
“Was it worth it?” the heron asked.
Selene smiled. “Every step, every thirst, every trial. Desire carried me to destiny, and destiny gave meaning to desire. They were never separate. They were always two halves of one sacred whole.”
The heron spread its wings, and Selene’s soul rose like flame into the stars, where desire and destiny merged forever in the great tapestry of eternity.
And so the tale was passed down:
That desire is not a curse, nor destiny a prison. They are lovers, dancing in sacred union—one calling, the other answering, until the soul’s journey is complete.ith clarity, confidence, and an unshakable sense of purpose.
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