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.