A flash remaining parts in the perishing fire,
Glinting, yearning to motivate.
Cinders fall, yet still it shines,
Murmuring stories nobody knows.
Night swallows the last light,
Be that as it may, in obscurity, the ash's splendid.
It doesn't talk, it doesn't yell,
Be that as it may, in its shine, everything sprout.
A tranquil power, inconspicuous, untold —
The last ash, consuming striking.
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