The Silence Gathers
At the edge of evening, the forest releases its last gold. Root, stone, and shadow draw close to one another, almost becoming a single body. Then a small pane of light finds the moss and remains.
In The Silence Gathers, Lucas Varro offers a spare lyric poem of evening stillness, forest hush, and the quiet gravity of light held for a moment before darkness completes its work. The poem belongs to The Vow, a house for compressed poems shaped by image, silence, and afterlife.
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Also in The Lantern Chronicles
The Stranger Is Where Inheritance Is Weighed
A Living Way essay on faith, inheritance, empire, and moral humility. The Stranger Is Where Inheritance Is Weighed asks how the stories that form us can become either mercy or contempt — and why the true test of any tradition is whether it can still see the stranger.
The Beggar God: A Bhikshatana Retelling
A hearthlit retelling of Bhikshatana: Shiva enters the forest as a barefoot beggar, carrying only ash, silence, and an empty bowl. In this Fires of the Old World tale, spiritual pride is not defeated by argument or spectacle, but revealed by what the hand cannot yet release.
At the Lip — A Poem from The Vow
A poem from The Vow on a waterfall, a river reaching the edge, and the stillness that gives falling its shape. At the Lip stays with one overwhelming natural image until movement, constraint, and scale become almost unbearable in their precision.
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If this piece found something in you, you may wish to continue the journey elsewhere.
On The Lantern Chronicles, I gather writings from Angkor, myth and legend, contemplative essays, and poetry — works shaped by silence, beauty, wonder, memory, and the deeper questions that follow us through the world.
It is a place for stone and story, reflection and vow, shadow and revelation.
You would be most welcome there.