Little Miss Light-Anyway — Walking Toward It Without Seeing

Lyrics

[Intro]
Little candle, beeswax from the hives on Orchard Street,
November 3rd, under the fog that swallowed Brooklyn.

[Verse 1]
I hold you in my palm, your wick trimmed to a quarter inch,
the match struck against the box from the corner store on 7th.
No moon tonight, no streetlamp cutting through the grey,
just your flame, flickering like Sarah's breath last winter.
You don't promise the path, only the next stone underfoot,
the damp gravel crunching, the unseen curb at Henry and Clark.

[Chorus]
We walk by faith, not by sight, little light,
step into the fog that hides the bridge over the East River.
Your glow on my knuckles, warm against the chill,
no map, no lantern brighter than this fragile inch.
Faith is a step taken in fog, you and I,
carrying on without the seeing.

[Verse 2]
Remember Paul, in Corinth, writing those words in 55 AD,
ink on papyrus, trusting the courier through the dark.
Like him, I cup my hand around you, shielding from the wind off the bay,
your scent of honey and propolis filling the thick air.
The world dissolves to this circle of yellow light,
the unseen path to the bakery on Atlantic, where dawn might break.

[Bridge]
What if the flame gutters, little one?
What if the fog thickens to London's pea-souper of 1952?
Still, we go, your wax melting slow,
dripping like tears on my thumb, persistent.
No certainty, just the going-on,
the candle carried into the dark.

[Verse 3]
Pilgrims before us, nameless on roads to Canterbury in 1387,
torches of tallow, steps without sight.
You, my beeswax companion, harvested in June from hives by the old oak,
light the way not to the end, but to the next breath.
The fog muffles the horn from the ferry at Fulton Landing,
but we press, you and I, into the unseen.

[Outro]
Little light, we made it to the door on Degraw,
the step taken, the fog lifting slow.
Faith held in a cupped hand,
your flame the quiet proof.