The striking match may illuminate and fade, yet it ever intends to kindle a lasting golden light.
The match brought a sudden light to the dark, brief in the expanse of time, yet any light at the right time can be of such immense consequence.
The match came to dance in the eternal moment, to shine a light because it was needed and content to extinguish once its task was complete.
The match accelerated over the sandy paper, spluttering to life. In moments it was a blaze, a tiny inferno that light up the room. I watched it, the flame that came with a simple movement of my hand.
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