The Flame That Chose to Rise

They say every flame begins in the dark.
Once, there was a spark that lost its home torn from the warmth that had sheltered it, left trembling among the cold ashes of what once was. For a while, it forgot how to burn.

But the wind of life has strange mercy.
It pushed the spark through storms, through mockery, through endless nights where even hope refused to speak. Yet somehow, the spark held on not out of certainty, but out of stubbornness to exist.

Then one dawn, it touched something ancient within itself a seed buried deep in pain and from that place, light began again. Not the same light as before, softer yet stronger, burning not to be seen, but to see.

Now the flame stands balanced between its roots and the star that guides it a quiet symbol of those who fall, break, and still choose to rise.