There is a light
that never fails
in a safe house
somewhere,
one that lights
the way home
for those who seek it
from dark places; as dim
as it might be from
some places on the path
it always comes through
the trees eventually,
is glimpsed from
the ship on the rocks,
shimmers on the edge
of sight when seen from
a distant ridge; it blinks
of home and safety
to the long absent
traveller. At least that’s
what I’ve
been told.
