It glimmers soft, like morning dew,
A silver glow in shadow’s hue.
It sings with tongues that drip like wine—
A whispered promise, dark, divine.
It dresses truth in robes of lies,
A halo forged to blind the eyes.
It says, “Come closer, feel the flame,”
But burns the soul and leaves no name.
It calls itself the better way,
A shortcut through the night to day.
Yet every step beneath its gleam
Is further from the waking dream.
It mimics stars, but lacks their fire,
It feeds not hope, but cold desire.
Its roots are not in earth or sky—
They twist where broken angels lie.
Don’t chase the glow that shuns the sun,
That offers peace, but hides the gun.
The truth is not so slick or bright;
It grows in silence, not in light.
So when you’re lost, and light feels rare,
Beware the flash that finds you there.
Some lights were made to lead astray—
Hold fast. The dawn will find its way.
Thank-you for reading.
Remember there are many paths back to God.
Follow your own path,
Brenda Marie
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