By Kokoro Still
An andon does not light the corridor as the sun does.
Its flame does not chase the night away.
Instead, it rests inside the paper frame,
holding a circle of warmth—
a silence that gathers where shadows deepen.
Here, the presence of Kokoro is felt not in brightness,
but in the quiet that remains
where the light stays near.
The andon (行灯, a traditional Japanese lantern) was once a common light in homes before electricity. A wooden frame covered with paper held a small flame of oil or candle. Today, andon are still encountered in traditional inns (ryokan), folk museums, and some festivals—often as carefully maintained pieces or replicas lit for atmosphere.
A Circle of Warmth
One evening at a small ryokan on a back street, an andon stood in a quiet hallway.
My steps slowed. I crouched a little to the side.
Its paper sides were not white, but tinted by years of smoke and hands.
The flame inside trembled; with each slight tremor, shadows shifted on the wall—
not erasing the dark, but leaving smaller shapes of it to be seen.
There I felt that quiet can be held—
not by absence, but by a light that does not insist.
What the Shadow Keeps
The andon’s light was never enough to show the whole corridor.
Objects stayed half-seen, the farther length remained unlit—
and yet nothing felt incomplete.
What the andon did not reach kept its own place.
Darkness did not require removal; it remained as part of the corridor’s memory,
set beside what the light made clear.
That overlap is where Kokoro is most palpable—
between what can be seen and what is left unseen,
between presence and its echo.
Morning, Leaving the Inn
Morning thinned the night in the corridor.
The andon was out; its paper caught the first thin light of morning.
A faint trace of oil stayed in the air, and I paused a breath where the circle had ended the night before.
At the doorway, the street kept a pale light.
Light stops near things—that measure was what remained in hand.
What I carried with me was not the andon, but the way the light knew where to stop.
An andon is not for banishing darkness, but for staying near it.
Within its faint circle of warmth, shadows gather, memories return—
and the presence of Kokoro can be felt in the quiet that remains.
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