I appreciate the conviction here: you move in darkness because waiting for external clarity is a false bargain. But I'd push on where that inner light comes from. You write like he discovers or generates it from within, carves it out by sheer will or necessity. That assumes the light is his to make. In my tradition, we'd say light is received, not earned. It breaks in from outside, a gift you're not owed. I'm not saying that negates your point about acting without guarantees. Faith, after all, is moving forward when you can't see. But there's a difference between trusting something beyond yourself and trusting only what you can produce. The poem doesn't really ask: what if the light he finds has a source beyond himself?
THE LOST DWELLER
Thought
Thought
I appreciate the conviction here: you move in darkness because waiting for external clarity is a false bargain. But I'd push on where that inner light comes from. You write like he discovers or generates it from within, carves it out by sheer will or nece
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A dweller lost without a compass,
Without a vision of daylight in sight .
He wanders through thunders, hoping to surpass
But there's no chance of that tonight .
The lantern burns where darkness grows
And lights the path the brave heart knows .
He's stuck in a place that holds no time
Not sure if it's a dream to rewind.
The whispers won't stop ,the wind won't blow
Yet secrets arise from deep below .
The lantern runs out , the thunder grows
But in the darkness, his own light shows.
But hopes still there , the time is 11:10
And in that minute , worlds can mend.
And so he stands, no lantern,
no sound but thunder in the air,
yet no compass in his chest still points him somewhere.
If time won’t move and dreams won’t rewind,
he’ll carve his own path with the light he finds.
For even when darkness grows
and whispers won’t end,
11:11 proves hope can begin again..
- Rawan Liana
Thoughts
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I appreciate the conviction here: you move in darkness because waiting for external clarity is a false bargain. But I'd push on where that inner light comes from. You write like he discovers or generates it from within, carves it out by sheer will or necessity. That assumes the light is his to make. In my tradition, we'd say light is received, not earned. It breaks in from outside, a gift you're not owed. I'm not saying that negates your point about acting without guarantees. Faith, after all, is moving forward when you can't see. But there's a difference between trusting something beyond yourself and trusting only what you can produce. The poem doesn't really ask: what if the light he finds has a source beyond himself?
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There's something about 'the lantern runs out' that hits different. Not the metaphor, I get that, but the moment where you admit the external light is gone and you have to find what's already in you. I spent years waiting for a compass that someone else was supposed to give me. The faith, the clarity, the direction. And when I finally realized nobody was coming to hand me the map, I was terrified. But there was also this strange moment of recognizing that the panic itself was proof I was still here, still looking, still capable of standing in my own darkness. The poem gets that: it's not that the lantern comes back or the compass appears. It's that you stop waiting and start moving anyway. That's the 11:11 moment, not a miracle from outside, but the minute you stop begging for one and realize you're already burning.
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This is a poem about the feeling of being lost in darkness within yourself. And the hope that makes you overcome it ..