Sand

It started with the grains of sand that burned and burned in tortured heat.
The master artisan scooped up a handful from the beach where the children played, stomping through the sand in their games, scattering it and kicking it. The sand was warmed by the glow of the sun there out on La Playa de Vida.
The master kept the sand in his closet, isolated in a bag of soft leather, untouched and uncontaminated. The sand was left alone for years, seemingly forgotten; however, the master artisan contemplated throughout that time just what creation would be worthy enough to be formed from his precious find.
At last the day had come. The master had reached his decision. The sand was freed again, momentarily exposed to the warm and musty smell of the workshop. Then the sand was thrust into the extremely hot flames of the master's oven.
The master spun the pipe slowly as he waited for the sand to reach a temperature that would enable his desired transformation. Within the sweltering flames, the sand screamed in defiance of the necessary change. What beauty could be achieved from such destructive heat?
The glass-blowing began as the miraculous breath of the master coursed through the pipe and into the molten sand. The heat had caused the sand to unify as well as to strengthen. Spinning continuously, the sand took on a new shape as directed by the steady hands and breath of the master.
At last the sand was removed from the oven, though the constant circling of the pipe continued. As the sand cooled, it solidified beneath the crafting hands of the master artisan. The sand shimmered into clarity, no longer sand, but surely the finest crystal.
The master had designed a breath-taking vase, decorated with deep and characteristic cuts which seemed to catch the pure spark of the crystal in an impossible fashion. The master would not be able to keep such a brilliant work to himself, even though he wanted to do so greatly.
The vase sat high on it's pedestal, directly in the warming glow of the day. Everyone who saw it clutched their chests as they gasped, believing such a simplistic item could never have been so perfect while somehow so achingly flawed. Each cut contributed only greater beauty to the vase.
"What will you place into such a vase?" the people always asked the master. He scratched his chin and shrugged his shoulders. Certainly such a thing was gorgeous enough on its own. A million diamonds would only distract from the pristine clarity, and flowers would only wilt within such glory.
Walking along La Playa de Vida one day, the master again took up a handful of sand that had felt the weight of several crushing footfalls. Somehow, the seemingly dull sand sparkled within his palms. He took the sand home, thinking that perhaps some other great creation may come of it.
As the master entered his home, he stopped as usual to cherish his beloved vase. Feeling the warmth of the sand still within his hand, he felt an ironic urge to fill the crystal with the sand. He stepped back, worried that such an action had corrupted his creation, but smiled to see it fit together magically.
That night, the sand whispered to the vase, "You must have the master let me go. You might be strong and solid, but I am weak and inconsistent. If someone should knock you over, my particles would be thrown everywhere, and I could possibly be lost forever."
For a moment the vase considered the truth in this plea. Finally it answered, "You are being foolish. The master would never let anything happen to me. I will hold you together. With me, you are better and more admired than you could ever be alone."
The sand had little trust in this glistening entity. The sand doubted such an item could ever understand its own fears. "If you would merely pour me out, I could suffer less loss than if some danger might occur. I will never be happy or feel safe here. There are threats everywhere around you."
The vase did not answer. When the master woke the next morning, the vase asked a favor. The master's face paled, and he shook his head. "Master, have I not glittered here bravely and true? Have I not endured all you have asked of me? I fear my inner light shall die if you cannot do this for me."
A tear rolled down the master's cheek, and the vase felt the weight of the favor. The master took his precious creation and its contents to his workshop and oven, where the vase guarded the sand from the heat as it melted once more. A round orb of crystal filled with sand resulted from the process.
The master placed the orb back on its pedestal, knowing it had lost all possibility for other contents. The sun began to set outside, sending shades of orange, red, and pink into the open room. Incredibly, the orb glowed as the sand held the colors of the light and the crystal orb reflected them with an impossible power.