he tells of a spark

We are all born into a single moment in time, filled with our own force of colour, of sound, spinning through a spill of days and finding hope. We can't expect to master all pursuits, or know all great kindness. But neither can we cripple ourselves with a shrug of our spark, where such invention yet moves to radiate. We should hold warmth for the happiness of others, and perseverance for our own. We should wear ourselves well—ragged—lightning bolt—brave.