When night falls heavy, thick with fear,
And silence wraps the world so near,
A single flame begins to rise—
A trembling glow that softly tries.
It does not roar, it does not blind,
But chases shadows left behind.
With every flicker, pure and true,
It paints the dark in warmer hue.
Though storms may rage beyond the pane,
And winds may howl in cold refrain,
The candle stands—its quiet grace
A beacon in this shadowed place.
For light need not be loud or grand
To guide the soul or warm a hand.
Even the smallest flame can spark.
Thank-you for reading.
Remember there are many paths back to God.
Follow your own path,
Brenda Marie
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