The Lighthouse
The Lighthouse
Dark spirits roar against the guiding light
Of the lighthouse on the storm blasted rock;
Standing tall against the turbulent night
Ravaged by the fierce gale’s relentless shock,
As the light keeper waits the devil’s knock.
Ferocious squalls like angry spectres teem
Around the tower of un-yeilding block
And hell’s swarming impotent demons scream
In helpless rage around the steady beam.
Bright streaks of lightening as the winds raise
The seas until a far ship’s light it seems,
Turns from the rocks and the bright blinking gaze,
Then all of Hell’s demon’s that raised the winds
Are spent against the guiding light within.
Barry Sebbings
09/04/17
Copyright © Barry Stebbings | Year Posted 2017
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