At the end of a cobbled road stands a spike crowned by a golden radiance. I tend the light and from my perch, I watch all the other lights wink out.
The wind whips at my clothes and the waves crash below. In both, I hear a voice telling me to quit. The wind and water say there is no one to see the light I tend, but I tend it anyway.
Above the stars close their bright eyes and eternal night drops an obsidian dome. But I tend the light, keeping its glow strong. Somewhere out beyond the sea, there might still be an eye searching for a bit of relief, a solitary star to wish upon. So I provide the light, keeping it bright. And just maybe, I’m stoking the fires of hope.
For TLT Week 38, based off a scene for a post-cataclysmic tale I’m cooking up. Thank you, Sonya for giving me a little light to play with.