THOUGHTS OF A LAMP
I am a lamp, hanging outside a small, beautiful homestay in the mountains. In the day, I simply hang, catching the wind, watching the peaks rise high and cold around me. Guests come and go, some laughing, some tired from the long roads, and I remain part of the view, always present though rarely noticed.
But as night arrives, I begin to shine. The air grows colder. The mountains fade into shadow. I hold a soft light to the dark. I can see my light fall on the snow. Everything around that small circle of light is just darkness. I feel the soft push of the wind, and hear the distant creak of old wood. Sometimes, with a gush of cold air, I sway with the wind, and the glass of my lantern tinkles.
I am not the sun, not a fire, yet I give enough light to guide a tired feet back to their door. My presence comforts the silence and reminds the heart that warmth still exists in the middle of the snow and the dark. So, here I stand, alone against the dark, shining with a quiet strength, because even a small light feels like company to the guests on a dark, cold night.
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