The light flickers, then goes out... What once was a beautiful, strong, bold flame, now blows out, forever exstiguished.

So bright, so beautiful, was the flame. Flickering like a beacon, used for helping others find their way, was that flame.

Touching the sky, brushing the ground, danced the flame.

Shining gold, diminished blue, shined the flame.

Hot to the, burned the flame.

Warmth, solitude, offered the flame.

Blown higher, higher, losing its structure, the flame was manipulated.

Flickering, craked the flame.

Sparking, snapping, reaching for the sky, gasped the flame.

Sputtering, slowly shrinking, the flame starts to give in.

A last dance, long and graceful, then a sharp snap, and the flame died...

All thats left is a trail of ashes, being blown away, the smell of smoke, a reminder that even the brightest, hottest, highest flame can be gone with just one blow...