There is a Light in the window
golden, it spills out into the cold, the dark.
It calls me," Come home, come home
where you are safe and loved,
where you are warm and all is kindness, all is peace."
I look to the light, yearning for it
and the little house where it gleams
but with each step through the murk
I falter, chased by shadow.
I want to come home, be warm, be safe, be loved.
Even as I stumble, the Light does not flicker.
It does not falter.
It waits for me, a beacon in my forest,
spilling from windows that I have looked out of all my life,
calling me home, until the day
When I will find myself a part of that golden glow
a part of the candle flame that beckons the weary
welcomes the worn and tattered
all those who have flickered, faltered, fallen
calling to them,"Come home, come Home."