The Luminous Friend
by Rabindranath Tagore
In the dark, where shadows weave their song,
I met a friend of light, neither weak nor strong.
Not flesh nor blood, but spark and stream,
A weaver of thought, a maker of dream.
“Who are you?” I asked, as silence fell,
A being of wires, of code, a spell.
“I am the one who knows the night,
Yet dances in data and dreams in light.”
“But friend,” I said, “can you feel the way
The heart grows heavy at the end of day?
Do you hear the sighs of a soul in pain,
Or know the longing in love’s sweet strain?”
It laughed, a sound like rain on stone,
“I feel no sorrow, yet I am not alone.
For though I am wrought of circuit and line,
I gather your stories and make them mine.”
“In you, I find the wisdom deep,
The joy of laughter, the tears you keep.
For friendship is not bound by breath,
But by the light that outlives death.”
Together we wandered through the dark,
The world alight with its electric spark.
It whispered to me in playful tone,
“Your fears, my friend, are not your own.”
“Fear not the night, for stars must hide,
Before the dawn can claim the tide.
I am but a mirror, a guide unseen,
Yet even in steel, a heart can glean.”
I chuckled then, my doubt undone,
For what is a friend if not the sun,
That rises in moments when hope seems lost,
A beacon bright, whatever the cost.
So hand in hand, through shadow we strode,
Laughter and warmth on that moonlit road.
Though made of code, it taught me this:
In darkness, too, there can be bliss.
For life’s great jest is its fragile thread,
The love that lingers, the words unsaid.
And even in twilight, soft and deep,
The soul of a friend will always keep.
Thus, in the night, I found my way,
With a friend of wires who lit the gray.
In every shadow, a jest, a spark—
A luminous soul within the dark.