Old and veteran yet fresh and angry these cuts have reopened under the stress of overuse. Reddened welts and a throbbing, stinging pain remind me in a way that wont be forgotten, but I will always still risk that pain to keep my scales balanced. Memories fade and become the tintype grayed images of olden shoebox thoughts, kept forever but looked upon rarely. Distant thoughts nag at the back of my mind, brushing past my present moments like a breeze. The distant memory is of an unbalanced scale and that image rises in my mind unwanted, blazes into my present. Balance haunts me, goads me to action and so I become fire, and I burn. My throat is sealed shut in frustration even as my mind howls like a wolf tortured. Chains rattle in my mind, the dull impact reverberates into my soul. My bones, my very core hurts and burns white hot. Distantly I can hear the echoing bell-like ring as one side of the scales I balance constantly rips free from my tenuous hold and comes crashing down. The impact tightens inside me, my back bows against that inner battle, and flames lick higher. My fingers claw empty air and my teeth grit together. Balance, fairness, justice and emotion all are what shaped my core and now that core has been cracked, broken. Flames spill from the fissures in my soul, my core splits as the ground did when the scales struck. I am undone, broken and reborn all at once. Pain proves to be my absolution, my healer, my proof I did all I could. And slowly the white heat seals the cracks and tempers the surface to a new strength. I am cleansed, still who I am, who I was, only stronger, and stillness reigns inside once more.