The lighthouse stands, a stubborn flame

against the sea’s unceasing call,

a steadfast keeper of the name

of those who fear the rise, the fall.

It casts its glow on distant shores,

a beacon through the night’s thick veil,

as sailors drift toward unseen doors,

unsure if winds will lift or fail.

And we, like ships, are drawn to light,

our hearts a compass spinning wild,

seeking a home in endless night,

yearning to be the lost, found child.

The lighthouse is our hope, our guide,

its flame the dream we hold inside.