Beware the gleam that speaks too sweet,
A golden path beneath your feet.
Not all that glows is born of stars—
Some shine to mask the prison bars.
It whispers truths in sugared tones,
With mirrors set on thrones of bones.
Its halo hums with saintly grace,
But hides a wolf with angel’s face.
It offers warmth with no true flame,
A comfort traded for your name.
Its light is soft—too soft to see
The cracks in its divinity.
So hold your soul with guarded hand,
And question what you understand.
For even light can lead astray
When forged to steal the night away.
Seek not the brightest in the sky,
But that which flickers, does not lie.
A quiet lamp, a steady burn—
The kind of glow for which you yearn.
Thank-you for reading.
Much Love and Light,
Brenda Marie
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