A light house-
Swelling the atmosphere around me with my twisting beams of red and white-
Rapt foolery.
My beacon picking up fallen sailors,
Massaging their ocean of despair,
Guiding them back to feet reaching sands-
Away from typhoons and the terrifying myriad of the ocean- universes of water-
Too much to comprehend.
Sailors need the light house but the lighthouse needs the sailors too.
My paint is chipping,
My beacon- fading,
My posture droops-
The elements batter me down.
The lighthouse needs the sailors.
