a soft breath
and the tiny flames begin to tremble
before they quietly go out.
a thin trail of smoke rises up,
mixing with the sweet scent of strawberries and cream,
gently filling the warm room.
on this birthday night,
the older brother leans forward
to blow out the candles,
his wish still held silently in his heart.
beside him, his younger brother watches,
unable to hide the feeling
of not wanting the light to end just yet.
the word “消” does more than mean
to put out a flame.
it also marks the quiet border
where one moment comes to an end,
and a new moment quietly begins.
under the gentle glow of the lamp,
smiles and a small touch of sadness
blend together for only a few seconds —
a fleeting, precious slice of time.
each time you look at this piece,
it softly reminds you
that because things end,
new days, new wishes,
and new light can begin again.