The Hidden Lamp

In the far corner of a forgotten barn, covered by layers of dust and silence,
I found a small solar lamp.

Its body, once built to receive the light of the sun, had been left in darkness for years.

The battery still rested inside, stubbornly holding on to what little charge remained.

But it had begun to leak quietly, persistently,
its acid spreading like unseen tears over the fragile contacts meant to carry light.

Metal was dissolving. The lamp was eating itself from within.

I stood there, holding this small relic of forgotten light, and felt the weight of its message.

How many of us have been hidden away like this lamp, placed in the shadow, disconnected from the source that once filled us with warmth and meaning?

We too are built to absorb light and reflect it outward, but when we are shut off from love, truth, and connection, our inner chemistry changes.

The same energy that once nourished us becomes corrosive.

We begin to leak — not acid, but bitterness, exhaustion, sorrow.

Our unspoken words become toxins; our unhealed wounds, slow rust.

And yet, there is no judgment in this decay.
Even in its corrosion, the lamp was still holding a story of resilience.

It did not die, it waited.

It was not broken beyond repair, it was simply forgotten, left without sun.

Just as the human heart, when kept too long in darkness, does not stop beating; it simply learns to survive with less light.

When I brought the lamp outside and placed it under the daylight, I saw something remarkable.

The acid dried. The cold metal began to warm.

And for a brief moment, the smallest flicker returned,
not a full beam, but enough to remind me:
Light is never truly gone; it only waits for reunion with its source.

So many souls on this earth are like that lamp — buried under expectations, guilt, or silence.

They have not forgotten the light; they have only been told to hide it.

They keep giving energy to systems, relationships, and patterns that drain them, hoping to be seen, not realizing that what truly saves them is to face the sun again.

To lift their face toward truth, to reconnect with the source that has been calling them all along.

When we begin to clean away the corrosion, when we forgive ourselves, when we allow honesty to dissolve the old pain.
Our contacts are restored.
The current of life returns.

The soul begins to hum again, in quiet joy, knowing that it was never broken, only covered in dust and shadow.

The hidden lamp becomes a mirror of the human spirit.
Its story whispers: Even when forgotten, I am still made for light.
And so are you
🕯️🌟❤️‍🔥💞💫