In the stillness of the mist, where the sea meets the shore and the sky wraps the world in a veil of gray, the lighthouse stands—a silent witness to the unseen. Its light, though distant and faint, calls not to the eyes but to the soul, reminding us that even in the heaviest of fogs, there is always a flame within. The fog may obscure, but it cannot erase what is eternal, for the heart knows the way, even when the path is hidden.

The rocks along the shore, shaped by time and patience, lie in quiet repose, their jagged forms softened by the embrace of the sea. These stones, like the trials of life, bear the marks of the endless waves, but they endure, unmoved in their essence. So, too, are we—worn by the hands of time, yet shaped into something beautiful by the unseen forces that guide us.

And there, among the rocks, the birds rest, unbothered by the fog or the waves. They are the souls who have learned to trust the quiet rhythm of the universe, knowing that the storms and fog are but fleeting visitors. In their stillness, they remind us to find peace within, for the world outside is but a reflection of the world within us.

The lighthouse, standing tall amidst the fog, does not seek to conquer the mist, but to offer its light as a quiet prayer to the lost. It does not strain against the silence, but simply fulfills its purpose, knowing that to shine, even when unseen, is enough. Such is the way of the heart—offering its light, its love, without the need for recognition or return.

In this mist, where all seems hidden, there is a deeper truth: that we are not lost, but always found in the stillness of the soul. And like the lighthouse, we must shine our light, for in doing so, we become the beacon that guides others, even when the world seems veiled in mystery.