Blissful Mornings - Lanternlight

The sun had slipped behind the palms, and the island breathed in stillness.

Wrapped in her jasmine-and-pearl blanket, the girl held her copper lantern gently—its

flame unlit. It felt right that way. Sacred, even. As if light might interrupt something more

ancient than words.

She sat by the cove, her feet brushing the sand, her eyes half-closed.

And in her heart, a thought she did not expect:

“I am not waiting for them to speak. I am learning how to be quiet with them.”

She stayed in that quiet until a glow from behind called her gaze.

She turned slowly.

There—inside the swaddle cottage—light.

She walked carefully up the path, the lantern swaying with her breath.

And through the soft woven folds of the coconut-leaf wall, she saw him.

A child.

Young. Pale. Golden-haired.

He stood near the museum display, not touching—just taking it all in.

His eyes were wide but heavy.

The kind of eyes that had longed for company long before this moment.

He moved toward one of the elder’s blankets and wrapped himself in it—not to claim it, but

to find comfort in something deeply human.

He curled gently into the corner, near the low altar, and let the quiet hold him.

She did not interrupt.

She only watched.

Not with judgment. Not with fear.

But with recognition.

This child—Philippe, though she didn’t yet know his name—was, in some way, like her.

A soul whose origin wasn’t easily named.

A quiet bearer of stories not yet spoken.

A presence that mirrored her own becoming.

She rested her hand on the woven wall.

The lantern still unlit.

But something had been illuminated.

-Bliss Chains Authors