The Lantern of the Path

The lantern swings in the traveler’s hand,

a star brought low to the waiting land.

Its circle glows on the stones below,

a fragile map in the dark’s shadow.

Each step is guided, each breath made sure,

though night is vast and the way obscure.

The trees lean close with a listening ear,

their roots remember the road drawn here.

The lantern hums: be not afraid,

though shadows deepen, the light was made.

Not to banish, not to blind,

but to walk with you, step in kind.

I follow its arc through field and wood,

a pulse of flame where no path stood.

The dark is not enemy, nor is it friend,

but a veil through which the journeys bend.

And so I walk, the lantern near,

a quiet star my soul can hear.

Its glow does not end, though the night is long—

the path itself becomes its song.