Drunken waves drown this vice
Through fog yellowed by the lonely monolith
The empty horizon before him lies
And he knows he stands alone.
And so, the lighthouse man stands there stilted
The flowers for his wife
Rot in his hand
Having long since wilted.
The intoxicated mirage
Of crashing waters
He wonders whether his eyes betray him
Perhaps- his heart does
A tear caresses the side of his face,
His fingers shake, as he reaches
But cannot be bothered to wipe the trickling salt away
Standing at the edge,
He takes a step
His arms open;
Rather majestic.
He welcomes the prospect of this new home.
And sinks, clothed but his heart held naked.
His lungs surrender the fleeting air.
Into the dark abyss as he falls
The mouth of this sea, a monster he becomes,
Into the monster he crawls
it receives him with a woeful shudder,
And as the lips close on rusted hinges
His wound with salt slowly singes
The sea soon breathes the sky bare
It drinks as wine- the darkness there
Becoming one, they unite
They put him asleep
The fog no more
Is yellowed with light.
It is not but a moment,
Before the endless expanse continues
To feast on the horizon in sight
No trace of anything, not ship. not sigh.
The parents of his children are now but the night.