"I'm an effigy, a parody of who I appear to be, put your flaming torches under me."
~ Natalie Merchant
Anima Sola returned home today, succumbing to the familiar flames that define her existence. She has run back here, screaming as if a madwoman, haunted by the words that ring in her ears still, words that can never be taken back. Ever yearning for "family," instead she finds it's wreckage at her feet. She will not utter the word, she dare not, but it cries to escape her lips: soulmate....
It seems like she had only just left this place — realizing her chains were broken — yet the fates have demanded her return here. She cannot resist, for she is empty now, broken. She knows that this place is all that remains for her, and indeed, it is all that exists. The earthly world holds no promise for the lonely soul — only the purifying flames of purgatory can cleanse her of this pain now.
And she is ready for this destruction, it's power so complete that she has had no choice but to totally surrender to it. Proud, to feel every piercing and agonizing blow — even the ones that draw the breath away from her and leave her begging for mercy — because there was a time when she would not allow herself to feel these things at all, and she knows the consequences of such repression.
Feeling this pain is the only choice now. And so with with her eyes fixed heavenward, not knowing the time of her emancipation, she succumbs to the flames, indefinitely, and with faith.