The Lantern of Silence

The lantern waits, but does not speak,

its flame a tongue the dark would keep.

No hymn it sings, no prayer it calls,

yet still its light outshines the walls.

It burns for those who cannot say,

the words that grief has locked away.

It burns for voices hushed by time,

for names forgotten, lost to rhyme.

The silence bends around its glow,

a stillness every shadow knows.

The trees lean in, the night bows low,

as if the world consents to show—

that not all truth is voiced aloud,

not every sorrow finds a shroud.

Some dwell as flame, some breathe as air,

unspoken, yet forever there.

The lantern hums, though soundless still:

a heart once broken burns until

the silence learns to be the song,

the quiet learns it still belongs.