Of The Man In The Lighthouse

The man in the lighthouse
Stood in mute testament, which now may
be attributed to being passive aggressive
Isn’t that after all what a lighthouse do?
Stand resolute to the forces of nature
Which of course goes not unaccounted
Fate he calls it, after all
A tempestuous storm may only
Be a deliverance of karma he says.

Fear of weather is for those with roots
With land under their feet and those
With the fear of being uprooted
He lived with no such illusions
And if he did, he timed them to the tides
The rise and pull was temperamental enough
Then there was the famed moonlight
For the man in the lighthouse
It was hard to separate the man from the lighthouse.

He did step out, out onto the shores
Sustenance was an inconvenience
To be dealt with periodically
Just the way the lulls had to be tolerated before the
Drama of a storm unfolded.
Patience is a virtue to be cultivated
Skill at solitaire came with it
As did imagination laced with fortitude.

So between glasses of tea and
An aging deck of cards for company
He looked out for ships that long since
Stopped to pass, picking out shapes in mist
Conjuring characters central to plot
Watching for the perfect storm
The man in the lighthouse every night
Lit the beacon, sounded the gong
And perfected his game of solitaire.