Once there was a woman who forgot she carried the sun inside her. She gave it away in pieces: to those who needed warmth, to those who felt lost, to those who never thanked her. Until one day, there was only ash in her hands.

She sat by the river and asked the sky: “Why do I feel empty when I gave everything?” And the sky whispered:

“Because it was never yours to give away. The sun is to warm you first. Then, by being whole, you light the path for others.”

And so she gathered the ash, turned it into soil, and waited. Slowly, something began to grow.

“She no longer gives her light. She *is* the light.”