This weekend I saw into my core. I thought that it would just be ice, pure ice, but it wasn’t. There is a flame, or maybe an ember, burning red hot that is encased by the crystal ice. I thought it was extinguished, but it is not. It is made of stardust and matchstick tinder and phoenix ash. The little light shines through those stolid shells: K, L, M, N, O, P, Q. It is pulsing life, and life is warm.