The path before her was long.
While the night was cold and dark.
The trail wound through hills and trees.
A great forest, illuminated only by stars,
She didn’t know who placed them.
One every thirty feet.
Like sanctuaries in the night.
Siren songs tempted her.
The urge to get lost,
was strongest in the blackness.
Yet she could always see the next sanctuary.
That little bit of light in the distance.
It sustained her.
It encouraged her.
It led her.
To the end of the wilderness.
To a great city of brightness and warmth.
Here she would ask who placed the lanterns.
No one would know of them.
So she would return to the path in the bright day,
and find that the lanterns,
and the trail,
were nowhere to be found.