Dweller of Our Heart
Within the dark, before the day,
A golden spark will find its way;
Not borrowed light, nor fleeting flame,
But one with which the sun’s the same.
It warms the marrow, stirs the soul,
It makes the broken pieces whole;
Through weary hours, through every start,
It dwells within our beating heart.
When shadows press, it will not fade,
It stands where deepest love is laid;
For just as morning crowns the sky,
It rises here, and so do I.
We burn not just to see, but give,
To make the colder world live;
This flame, unchanged, will never part
The sun itself
Dwells in our heart.
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