Mortal Sparks

We chase these fleeting lights, these brief constellations we cast against the dark. Each glow a prayer, each burst a celebration of the life that burns within the mundane. From the asphalt where fireworks bloom to the hallowed halls where incense whispers, we are all just keepers of a temporary flame.

It is a silent acknowledgment that all those moments will be lost in time, like tears in rain. Yet, we light the fires anyway.