The flicker of the candle's light,
the warmth of its flame.
May look small and weak,
next to the others' fame.
The memories of the others,
present and past,
help the flame grow brighter,
and longer it does last.
And what the flame has done,
Is nothing in compare,
To the one who made the candle,
Without its start,no care.
Every flame came from the fire,
Every heart came from somewhere,
And even when your flame dies out,
The warmth will still be there.
We are nothing without the maker,
Or without the other flames,
We make the world shine brighter,
No one's flame is tame.
We all make a difference,
Whether big or small,
We all make our own light,
For who to see, but all?
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