I stand on cliffs with rocky points and wind
To lean against the rain, the stinging lash.
Great waves, whose roaring tauntings never end,
Reach up and turn my thorny torch to ash.
With darkness wrapping ’round, I scan the storm
To beg a sign, just one, of coming day.
A whisper draws aside my rain-clad form.
It breaks above the gloom and rainy fray.
It points to unexpected lanterns, bright,
The sea and cliffs and cloud cannot reduce.
My quest reframes within against the night,
Moored down by weight of hope without excuse.
Across the hopeless sky the truth’s made known:
The Lighthouse pierces through: “You’re not alone.”
SmoothStones 