I’m lingering in darkness, searching for a light
A calm between heartbeats, too quiet for fright.
The stars have turned inward, the moon hides her face,
And silence drips slowly through time’s empty space.
My hands reach through shadows, unsure what they seek,
A lantern of memory? A voice that might speak?
Each breath is a question, each step is a prayer,
For something to shimmer, for someone to care.
And there in the corner, not calling attention,
A figure stands still in the hush of suspension.
His robe gathers dust, his sandals are worn,
But his candle burns steady, for the lost and the torn.
No sermon, no thunder, no trumpet, no might,
Just the warmth of his gaze and the gift of his light.
He doesn’t rush forward, he doesn’t demand,
But he waits with the flame cupped gently in hand.
So I linger, yes, but I do not fall,
The dark is a hallway, not the end of it all.
And somewhere ahead, past sorrow and night,
I’ll walk, not alone, toward the flicker of light.