DIMMED GLOW

The day slips off my shoulders

like a coat I forgot I was wearing,

and the world settles into that hush

between breath and evening.

Everything feels slower here,

gentler —

like the shadows finally learned

how to hold their own weight.

My heart doesn’t blaze tonight.

It flickers, small, steady,

a lantern that refuses to go out

even when the wind tilts cruel.

Some days you burn bright,

some days you barely spark —

but both are still living,

both are still you.

The city hums around me,

distant and indifferent,

yet somehow comforting

in its endless motion.

I walk through it

with soft steps and softer thoughts,

not chasing anything,

not running from anything either —

just letting the dim glow

carry me forward.

Maybe light doesn’t need to roar.

Maybe it just needs to stay.

I move slower,

but I move still —

a quiet ember learning

the shape of its own fire.

If the night feels heavy,

I let it rest on me

without apology.

Some burdens don’t crush —

they teach.

And even in the lowest glow,

I remain lit

in ways I can’t quite explain.