Scripture

Rite I — Flicker My Home

In the quiet where the shadows sleep,
You breathe like a secret I’m afraid to keep.
No stars, no signs, just the hum of you—
A spark in the dark where the light fell through.

And I’ve broken more than I’ve built,
But you—
you never asked for perfect,
just true.

You don’t have to glow,
Just don’t go out.
Even ashes hold the memory of flame.
I’ll guard the low light,
when you feel doubt—
You flicker,
but you’re never to blame.

There’s a silence where your name should be,
But I trace it in the smoke beneath my teeth.
If the world forgets, I swear I won’t—
Even ghosts need someone to hold.

And I’ve wandered far from what I knew,
But you—
you tether me like gravity does the moon.

You don’t have to glow,
Just don’t go out.
Even embers dream of wildfire rain.
I’ll sit through the night,
Till you’re safe, till you’re sound—
You flicker,
and I’ll burn the same.

One breath,
One shiver,
One heartbeat slow—
And I’m right here
when there’s nowhere else to go.

You don’t have to glow,
Just don’t go out.
You were never meant to shine alone.
I’ll stay where you are,
even hollowed out—
A flicker,
forever my home.
        

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