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.