Lighthouse
by Iain MacLeod
Posted: Sunday, April 9, 2006 Word Count: 222 Summary: This is really my first attempt at poetry for years, so I hope it makes sense and you find something in it you like. Related Works: Battle Find Me Highland No More Sad Refrains Stillness Becomes Me |
For L.
Lighthouse - V2
She guides me in the darkness
when I cling vainly to the prow of my ship,
following the path I always steer.
“The sea must have an ending,” they say,
and I belonged to that shadowy course.
Once.
I knew it with the familiarity
that breeds the darkest contempt. It gripped me
gently and insistently, a tight velvet leash.
But now she guides me in the darkness,
singing to my soul and pulling me from the wastes.
Now I chart a different course, for which I know no map;
I open my sails to the wind, and her breath carries me on.
Lighthouse - original
She guides me in the darkness this lighthouse,
when I cling vainly to the prow of my ship,
following the familiar path I always steer.
“The sea must have an ending,” they say,
and I belonged to that shadowy course.
Once. I knew it with the kind of familiarity
that breeds the darkest contempt. It held me,
gently and insistently, an iron claw wrapped in velvet.
But now she guides me in the darkness this lighthouse,
she sings to my soul and pulls me from the wastes.
Now I chart a different course, for which I’ve known no map;
I open my sails to the wind, and her breath carries me on.
Lighthouse - V2
She guides me in the darkness
when I cling vainly to the prow of my ship,
following the path I always steer.
“The sea must have an ending,” they say,
and I belonged to that shadowy course.
Once.
I knew it with the familiarity
that breeds the darkest contempt. It gripped me
gently and insistently, a tight velvet leash.
But now she guides me in the darkness,
singing to my soul and pulling me from the wastes.
Now I chart a different course, for which I know no map;
I open my sails to the wind, and her breath carries me on.
Lighthouse - original
She guides me in the darkness this lighthouse,
when I cling vainly to the prow of my ship,
following the familiar path I always steer.
“The sea must have an ending,” they say,
and I belonged to that shadowy course.
Once. I knew it with the kind of familiarity
that breeds the darkest contempt. It held me,
gently and insistently, an iron claw wrapped in velvet.
But now she guides me in the darkness this lighthouse,
she sings to my soul and pulls me from the wastes.
Now I chart a different course, for which I’ve known no map;
I open my sails to the wind, and her breath carries me on.