Stardust in cupped hands A blow of the wind sends it off into the dark abyss. The only tiny sparks of light in that echoing space. Like a sudden strike of flint against stone.
Other darkness lurking in the unknown.
All others forgotten. No trace of kindness.
But that spark. That spark is all that was needed to ignite a flame. A flame that rages on an eternal flame. It dies but never eternally. Always a trace. A spark.