luminary

But the Luminary never existed as a person...
It was the gentle hum of the harmattan wind,
a mother’s lullaby floating in the dark,
even as the road vanishes.

It doesn’t appear as the dazzling, bright flashes you expect.
You feel it in the warmth of an old woman’s prayer,
in the inferno that burns in your chest when you remember who you are,
even after the world tries to forget you.

The Luminary doesn’t point the way,
it suggests with a whisper that there is still a way.
And one day, when your feet finally find the path,
you become the lampbearer, 
a guide for someone still lost in the dark.