fan into flame

The beauty of faith was an understatement; simplicity was an overstatement. Everything was in the palm of her hands; if they weren't, t...

The beauty of faith was an understatement; simplicity was an overstatement. Everything was in the palm of her hands; if they weren't, they were within reach. Her flame burned bright amidst the raging breeze of uncertainty and voices. Voices that whispered loudly from every corner, making escape seem impossible. But the flame, though it wavered, radiated a familiar energy that had been held onto through lingering, reinforced memories. Memories that reflected a beacon of light found underneath a scratched surface. Memories that evolved and moulded into the thought of a flawless future; where generations after us would be blind to extinguishing flames.

There was no need for anything more than what was within her reach. The flame was sufficient, and even burned past the expectations of its candle. A mere candle lit hope that was destined to endure the raging breezes, and the dangerous gush of tidal consumption. But as flames tend to do, they burn out. She wandered past fabricated promises, unrealistic truths, and seasons that strayed far away from spring. The fading into grey was a familiar sight, with the absence of light maintaining a bold stance - fearless in all its gloom. 

She learned that the beauty of faith was an understatement. Keeping the flame burning, well, simple was an overstatement. But a simple spark is all it takes, to rekindle what has faded. 


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