Candle

In the ancient hall, lost among the shadows, there was a single candle. Her flame fluttered like the last breath of the autumn wind. She was the guardian of time, shining in a corner of forgotten memory. The candlelight stretched upward like a hand rising from the depths of memories. In the flickering light, one could see the shadows of the past, shadows that danced around the candle like ghosts disappearing in the light emanating from its flame. The candle's fate was short, but bright, like a star at sunset. She was burning up, providing her light for others, but she felt her own fire gradually fading. Drops of wax trickled down like tears, leaving behind traces on the ancient walls as proof of the past radiance. The candle knew that its time was steadily coming to an end, but it did not know when the last drop would fall, when its light would be swallowed up by darkness. She was lost in her thoughts, mysteriously illuminating her surroundings, but remaining alone in her illuminated world. And then, at some point, the last drop fell. The lights went out. The ancient hall was swallowed up by darkness, as if a person is swallowed by the night after sunset. The candle disappeared, but in its flickering, in the warmth of its light, there was a trace in the memories. She is gone, but her light will live on in the hearts of those who have seen it flicker. In this darkness, something was lost, but in the light that shone, something remained forever.