The Last Lantern

When all the stars forget to burn,

and night forgets her borrowed name,

the last lantern will still return—

its glow the heart of every flame.

No keeper’s hand will lift it then,

no breath will feed its patient gleam.

It burns beyond the why of men,

a living pulse, a waking dream.

It holds the songs the rivers keep,

the prayers the roots have memorized,

the tears the sky forgot to weep,

the dawn that sleeps in closed-up eyes.

It hums with every soul’s refrain,

each spark that wandered, lost, and found.

Through joy, through ash, through blood, through rain,

its light still circles holy ground.

For love was never meant to fade,

nor faith to falter, fear to win.

The lantern shines where worlds are made—

a second sun, a truth within.

And when the dark begins to bend,

and silence sings, and shadows cease,

the last lantern will mark the end—

and call it not an end, but peace.