Water: hazy green.
On the decaying dock I lay,
My arms stretched out
Until my fingertips dangle over the edges
And the warm salty air rushes between them.
The ocean is in it's midday calm
With waves slowly creeping and crawling
Up the rocky shoreline, pressing against the larger boulders.
The sky seems lost in a blanket,
A blanket of silky grey draped over every crack.
It's endless, it's lifeless, and above all, hopeless,
The ships at sea struggling to see past the fog
And steer away from the boundaries and obstacles.
Behind me stands a beacon of light,
A tower of hope and strength in the worst of times,
It's rays shine through the fog and it's presence is a guide.
It extends its golden hand and reaches out
Holding you when you’re lost,
Carrying you when you’re weak,
And reminding you that you’re never alone.
It's hands find their way across my face,
A streak of light moves slowly from left to right
Grazing my shaking body, calming my endless nerves
Like a hand stroking my own.
For even in the darkest of nights,
The lighthouse pulls you back to the shore
When you’re left alone out at sea.