Fire. Creatures of all kinds are afraid of it. It burns... destroys everything it touches. What they do not see, is that fire allows new things to thrive. Ashes nourish new plants and trees, which in turn nourish the growth of animal life.
It is an equalizer, a way to clean the slate.
Nowhere is this as apparent as in Philomena.
She shines brightly for a decade, then burns herself out; dying in a pyre of her own flames so that she may be reborn from the ashes all wounds from her previous life vanished like snow beneath my sun.