Jeremy Szuder
I Am Lighthouse
I will be living in this lighthouse,
checking on the doors,
banging on the windows.
I will inevitably see what
needs to be seen,
over the crest of the
lace sewn ocean,
watching a whole barrage
of snowy stars wrap themselves
high above my lighthouse head
like a turban of black ink-
shooting sunray pinholes
right through that sky and
into my tried but grateful eyes.
On the breath of crisp apple winds,
I will not be peering at the horizon lines
for ships, nor boats of various sizes
and calibers.
I will not be waiting for fleets
to slowly crawl across this tide
of wanton dreams and mirages,
infinitely looping back and forth
forever in one day.
Only with the sharpest,
and most keen of sights,
standing all alone on this sandy,
grassy peninsula
will I then see
what it is truly that I was
created by the almighty hand
to see,
the stretch of blue green sea,
seemingly dancing on and on
without one care in the world.
. . . .
