Life is but an errant spark
Cast aside by Hephaestus’ hammer
As it beats down upon the Anvil of Existence.
Forging Creation’s heartbeat,
Granting brief illumination
To God’s face.
White hot and searing,
Each blazing kernel of possibility
Falls hopelessly like a doomed star,
Darkening as it descends
In a blazing arc
And returns to the void
Never having drawn the attention
Of their Heavenly Maker.

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