The Lantern

In the dark, a golden sickle gleams,
A path untrodden, yet it beams.
A light that waits, alive, it seems,
In the woods, where silence screams.

—

Branches crack, but I don’t turn,
A rule I know, a lesson learned.
The glow intensifies, it yearns,
A watchful flame, my heart it burns.

—

I should flee, but forward I tread,
Through mud and bone, where fear is fed.
The air grows thick, the trees ahead,
A lantern swings, unseen, unsaid.

—

I reach the light’s edge, it flickers bright,
Then flares, a lure, not a guiding light.
And now, behind me, it takes flight,
Leaving me in the endless night.