The Fire Dies Low

It's so easy for the consistency to be absent. Very probable her flame will die low. The truth she tends to forgo. Her heart and mind never in complete agreement.
How hard she must work to keep the flame strong. To feed it the food it needs to stay alive, week to week. More and more she realizes just how far from strong she is, how she tends to be so weak.
The frustrations and afflictions always seem to be because of her failure to believe. Her trust is so limited. Her abilities and life far too much for her to believe. She can never understand all that lies ahead.
Her life held not in His hand, but grasp wrongfully in her own. The moments she hands it over, the limited and few, flourishing with life and always brand new. She's afraid of letting go, afraid of the unknown.
Working hard to fan the flame. Working to keep faith in her fire. Always a task, always a goal for which she must aim. Yet it still seems so much more than she'll ever acquire.
Her life not hers to have, she doesn't understand these circumstances. Never enough strength or will to carry on inside. Feeling she's placed it all up to very unlikely chances. But she doesn't know how much He's already thought to provide.