Every passing day the flame dims.
But I still carry the fire.
It's my burden, my task, my purpose.
My only fear is that you don't realize this.
My flame is beginning to branch.
Leaving you a mere memory of my past.
My eyes and heart begin to wander from you.
As much as it hurts me, this is the way it must be.
I hope someday my fire will guide you back home.
But if not, then I wish you the best.
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