Keep one lamp burning for somebody

It was three in the morning. The city was asleep. Rain was running down the windows, and high above the street, one little lamp was still burning. I asked the old night guard, "Why do you leave that light on every night?" He looked up at the ceiling, smiled like a man who had carried the answer for years, and said, "Son, some lights are not for seeing. Some lights are for finding your way back." Keep one lamp burning for somebody in the night Keep one chair open for a soul without a light Sometimes hope is just a little glow In a window saying, you are not alone He said, "Room 200 used to belong to a man who played music every night. Not loud. Not for attention. Not to show the world he was happy. He played it for the ones who were awake when everybody else had disappeared. Truck drivers. Nurses. Broken lovers. Lonely kids staring at blue screens. Old men eating dinner by themselves. He said everybody needs a place where the night does not ask questions." Keep one lamp burning for somebody in the night Keep one chair open for a soul without a light Sometimes hope is just a little glow In a window saying, you are not alone I looked up at Room 200. Just a small square of yellow light in a wall full of darkness. The old man said, "People think loneliness is always loud. But most of the time, it sounds like a key turning in an empty door. A cup placed on a table for one. A phone that stays silent. A song you cannot play anymore because it knows too much." Then he placed his hand on his chest and took a long breath. "And sometimes," he said, "a person does not need saving. They just need proof that somewhere, somehow, somebody kept a light on." Keep one lamp burning for somebody in the night Keep one chair open for a soul without a light Sometimes hope is just a little glow In a window saying, you are not alone Then the old guard went quiet. The rain got softer. The hallway hummed. And for a moment, I could hear the whole building breathing. He said, "There was a night, long ago, when I came home myself. No voice in the kitchen. No coat beside mine. No note on the table. No hand reaching for me in the dark. Just a room that had forgotten how to be a home." His voice broke a little. "So I made myself a promise. If I ever found a place to stay, I would keep one lamp burning. Not because I was brave. Not because I was healed. But because I knew there would always be someone out there walking through the rain, trying not to fall apart before they reached the door." Keep one lamp burning for somebody in the night Keep one chair open for a soul without a light Sometimes hope is just a little glow In a window saying, you are not alone Keep one lamp burning when the cold winds blow Keep one song playing for the hearts moving slow Sometimes love is not a miracle or throne Sometimes love is saying, you are not alone By morning, the rain had stopped. The city turned blue. The windows slowly filled with daylight. But high above the street, in Room 200, that little lamp was still burning. Not because the night was dark. But because somewhere out there, somebody might still be on their way home.