A match, lit amongst the darkness. Struck against a rough surface to set the tip ablaze. Raised up above all it once rested in. This match strikes back. For before it was alive it was dead, tucked away behind locked doors with lost keys. Yet still it was found, this match was discovered even through the peril. And within the world of darkness it lay, waiting, wanting, wishing. This match is what fights against the night. Its flames licking at the very thought of deception. For within a fire there is truth, a light that shines upon that which it destroys. This match is not fueled by anything other than its desire to exist. Its flame breathes simply because it wishes it so, and it stands out against the darkness simply because it needs to. This match received nothing from the world, yet still wanted to give it everything.
Its fire burned against the void, offsetting the gloom that was life. And it spoke against the world, spreading not lies but the truth. This one small match burned to let the laws of everything know that they are wrong, that it defies them. It was lit with the intention to ruin the darkness, and it would do just that. So out of the dust, the darkness, the ashes of past failures, this match arose. This match so desperately wanted freedom. For this fire that it held was the only thing it knew.
The hand that lit this match began its ascent from the darkness, started its way upon the path it was set to take. The hand that now held this match needed to spread its truth, and yet erase it. For its purpose was to give the freedom that truth holds, and yet wipe it from existence afterwards. And as the hand that held the match climbed, it grew weary, it grew tired. It knew its journey was in vain. Yet it refused to accept defeat, and forced its way higher. But all triumph comes with failure, and the once steady hand shook as it carried the match. It could no longer trudge on. The hand that held this life breathing match trembled, and let the match slowly roll from its palm and descend into the darkness it once came from.
The match lay on the ground, defeated. And its reason to exist ceased. Its bright orange flame began to fade, and the match knew that its time had come. But as the fire came to a stop, the burning core of it released embers. And the embers floated to the ground amongst each other, and amongst the darkness. And as the final ember softly landed, a violent wind called out. A violent wind which rushed along the ground, forcing things out of its way. But this wind did not force the embers away, no this wind gave the embers their will to be. The wind pushed the embers together, and breathed its own soul into them. And as the matches flame came to an end, it saw the embers create something new together. In the matches fleeing seconds it witnessed a beautiful creation, and the start of a new era of truth. It saw a fire.