The Flame's last sigh.

Quickly gather at the last flicker of light

all who are tired, faint and weary

This is your final flame

Feel its warmth permeate your soul

Hold it close, though shadows press in,

its breadth is small, yet it remembers you -

as the night leans in heavy,

and embers whisper of dawn.

Let your silence be a prayer,

let your breath be a vow -

that no darkness can swallow

what has once burned true.

And when the flame sighs into ash,

lift your eyes heavenward...

for the stars will take its place,

a thousand quiet guardians

scattered across the sky...

high above where hope unfolds

from moments of near-extinction -

into renewal.

Now everyone is gathered as the flame dies -

but miraculously, a spark of promise leaps -

a tiny glow glimmers,

barely seen, yet trembling with breath.

It is no torch, no roaring blaze,

only a fragile pulse in the dark,

hearts lean closer,

weary hands reach out to cradle its gift.

Hope revives in it,

like a seed beneath winter soil,

like a star breaking through cloud.

The silence bends,

and in that small light

the promise of dawn

begins to rise...still alive,

within the last flame.