The Quiet Flame Burns Endlessly

In the city’s noise, a hush survives,

a small flame hidden, yet alive.

It does not beg, it does not call,

yet lights the shadow on the wall.

The world may rush, the days may spin,

but silence keeps its song within.

A gentle truth, a nameless fire,

burning slow, yet climbing higher.

Not for crowns, not for gold,

not for stories already told—

but for the breath, the unseen thread,

that wakes the heart, when all seems dead.

So walk the night, so hold the day,

the quiet flame will find its way.

And even if no one else can see,

it burns for you, endlessly.