The window lights,

my silent companions

on the night walks,

beacons, lighthouses,

signals from the spirits of the storm.

Are they on for me, for their distant

people?,

are they the signals of the spirits

and angels and witches

of the forest,  the cherubs

of the storm,

the night demons and elves?

Sometimes, I close my eyes,

and I can hear their soft whispers,

follow the light,

follow the light.