In the golden night, droplet stars splattered across the deep navy canvas of sky. They were resplendent in their faint aureate glow, glimmering, self-assured in their magnificence. Thick, choking smoke filled the lungs of the people gathered around the blistering campfire. It crackled and consumed the wood, burning and composing it into brilliant gold and scarlet heat. Embers trickled to the soil, forcing a last spurt of beautiful light before fizzling out to their deaths. The flames coaxed life out of the nighttime silhouettes, guiding them out of their hollow shadows. A symphony of chirping crickets was muffled by an encroaching fog that wove through aspen branches like thread. Fireflies glistened in the milky dusk, aspiring stars of the earth. They illuminated the path of their waltz, bringing blades of grass into a light sway. Dewdrops reflected tiny rays of brightness back to the stars, back to the summit of where it all began.

It was a luminous scene captured in a pulsing heartbeat. If you simply blinked, you might have missed it all.