The arms of the two fires licked,reached, and yearned for each other, but at their curent size, they couldn't ever reach the other, and they knew that. The first flame had so much hope and yearning, that it did the best it could and reached out for evry little bit of kindling it could get until it grew and grew into a large bonfire, but still the second remained small. The bonfire continued to look to the stars and the roaring white-hot flame tips swirled until the entire fire had died itself out, leaving a large bird made entirely of flames. A phoenix.
The phoenix fluttered to a nearby tree brand to watch the second flame grow into a fellow bird, but it did not. The second flame yearned for the first, but had no hope and saw it all as useless. But now that it had seen how mobile the first flame was as a bird, it began to wish that it hadn't of been so callous and pessimistic, but it was too late. The second flame was too small and already nothing more than a small flame amoung smouldering ashes. The phoenix cooed and urged the second flame not to go out, but it didn't--- it stayed at its small size, slowly shrinking until it had no more than a few moments left.
The phoenix remembered what it was like to be a flame and couldn't bear to see its friend go, so it flew to the ashes and burst into flame and for a brief instant, the two flames were one. Sadly, while the second flame was wallowing in self-doubt and pessimism, it ate all the kindling so that there was none left for the now large bonfire to last more than a few minutes.
In the end, there was nothing left but the ashes of black soot. But the two fires were one. No longer did they have to reach out for each other in constant yearning, for even though they were gone, they were always together. When the wind blowed, the ashes would travel, always one particle fo the first flame with the second so that no matter what happened, it was always two for one. One there for the other. Never to be let down, for even though they had both passed, they were still together.
