The Lantern’s Heart

The lantern waits at the forest’s edge,

a star in glass, a trembling pledge.

Its flame is small, yet steady, deep—

a secret fire the shadows keep.

The branches bow, the wind grows still,

as if the night obeys its will.

Each leaf is silver where it glows,

each stone remembers where it goes.

I walk the path, the lantern sings,

a hymn of light with shadowed wings.

Not loud, not fierce, but clear, profound—

its silence burns, its song is sound.

And in its glow the dark is near,

not vanquished, but transformed to seer.

The shadows kneel, the trees lean low,

the night itself begins to know.

I see my face within the flame,

half in dark, and half the same.

The lantern whispers, soft, apart:

I do not choose. I hold the heart.