Tiny Flames

Watch them, the way they light up a dark room with a single tiny flame.      
       
They hold so much power.        
       
One little flame can cause destruction and chaos, healing and life.    
It has torn through great civilizations, leaving only ashes in its wake.      
       
One tiny flame can light your way in a dark cave, bouncing off the water-chiseled walls, as if sharing the same properties of the echo coming back.      
       
It is enchanting enough to bring moths to their death.      
And magical enough to rebound woodpeckers after its ashes.      
       
It, metaphorically, is what lures two lovers together and what tears them apart later.      
       
And yet, here I sit, looking at this tiny little flame, small enough to sit on the tip of a pencil, and I realize:      
       
It is fragile.        
       
Tiny flames, like we are, like we were, hold more power than we could have realized at the moment.        
       
It makes me appreciate how fragile, even the raging wildfires once were.      
       
If only the flame weren't blown out too soon, what then would it have become?