The Echo of the Spark

There was a specific blue ceramic mug on my kitchen counter that held the heat of tea for exactly twenty minutes before it went cold. It is gone now, shattered into pieces too small to gather, and yet, every time I reach for the cupboard, my hand still curls into the shape of its handle. We are haunted by the geometry of what used to be. We think of endings as quiet, as a fading away, but the most profound endings are violent and bright. They are the sudden, searing fractures that light up the dark, proving that something existed only by the way it burns out. We look at the sky and see the brilliance, but we are really witnessing the death of a spark, a momentary defiance against the vast, indifferent black. If everything that shines is destined to vanish, does the light belong to the moment it burns, or to the shadow it leaves behind?

Mazhar Hossain has captured this fleeting transition in his image titled Colors of Light. He reminds us that even when the celebration ends, the imprint of the brilliance remains etched against the night. Does the darkness feel heavier to you now, or does it feel like a canvas waiting for the next spark?