ash

He carefully felt with both hands that black ash that was like the ruins of memories of his mother's love, that ash which had resided inside his chest for long periods, and he felt the deep beats of his heart. And in that hour that would not be erased by the passing days and through which he realized he had not yet understood the meaning of his majestic life, that handful of ash seemed to him a symbol of fate. Yes, everything was ash; life, death, and man, for now fate sends only that handful of ash. In that solemn hour, the frightening old woman still stood behind him like impending death, and in front of him was the body of the most miserable creature in this world, which, after suffering and committing all kinds of evil, died as a sacrifice for others. Nevertheless, he realized that among the ash, that spark often ignites; the seed that sets fire to light and purify everything, and he returned to hope, and loved life again.