Lighthouse

lighthouse

I’m sometimes like a boat

with neither sail nor an oar.

The night is black

the tempest howls

the sirens wail

and the monstrous, bellowing waves

gather all around me.

Lightning strikes

and a in a flash I see

jagged, perilous rocks:

I watch in morbid fascination.

For I know not if the wicked waves

smash me into a million scattered pieces

Upon those vicious rocks.

The storms rages around me

yet not within me –

for far beyond

in the horizon

through the valleys of the towering waves

I spy the flickering beams of a

lighthouse.

Or is it just my imagination

playing games with my mind?

1979

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~ by Steppenwolf on August 15, 2009.

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