“The lantern burned too fast. A young monk named Minato watched as the oil in its base drained lower, the flame flickering strongly as if it knew its own fate. He had placed it there, ensuring it would last through the night. As the hours passed, the temple quieted. The other monks had retreated to their quarters, their lanterns steady and subdued. Yet Minato’s lantern continued to burn with an almost restless energy, its flame consuming the oil faster than expected. Minato, unable to sleep, watched from the corridor, his gaze fixed on the trembling light. An elderly monk, Fumiko, walked down the hall and sat beside him. “You seem troubled,” she said softly. Minato hesitated before replying. “This lantern burns too fiercely. It may not last until morning.” Fumiko nodded, her eyes reflecting the wavering light. “And yet, does it not fulfill its purpose?” Minato frowned. “But it wastes itself too quickly. At least the others will last the night.” Fumiko smiled and gestured toward the temple garden, where the petals of a late-blooming flower trembled in the breeze. “Would you call a flower’s brief bloom wasted?” Minato looked back at the lantern just as the last of its oil vanished. With one final flicker, the flame surrendered to the night. The room dimmed, yet the silence it left behind felt fuller somehow, as if the light still lingered in memory. Minato bowed his head, uncertain whether the lantern had burned too quickly or exactly as it was meant to. Reflection Do you measure your life by its length or by its brightness? How do you balance sustainability with commitment in each moment?”