The Man in the Light-House

A poem- in honor of my friend Joseph, who likes my little compositions

The dark is wrenching; it tears the heart asunder.
It sings a song replete with present thunder.
Fatalities impress themselves upon a bruised mind;
a faint tang remaining, like discarded lemon rind.
The blood sings in my lips; it's salty and still dry;
The question is whether I fall or whether I touch the sky.

She was a girl in a glass room; she lived there all her life.
She was afraid to feel, for it's known the world is rife
with images of bloodshed and murder in a pearl;
the diadem on your head was earned by a mere churl.
She reached out and touched the lightning; it bit her fingers off;
she blazed in the world so brightly, though she seemed a simple toff.

One day the door swung open; the glass was fraught with blood,
the remainders of an ugly time when God had brought The Flood.
She recoiled in horror; she sunk into distress
and begged Him to bring her to her eternal rest.
God listened to her prayers but her request He did not heed;
she died a thousand times every time that she would plead.

Suddenly a moonbeam, cool and sweet upon the head,
A vision or a symbol of something golden on her bed.
The light danced her awake; tendrils wrapped around her arm;
They promised she was safe; indeed, she would come to no harm.
Hypnotized, she walked, through the quicksand and the bog
A tightrope-artist in disguise, crossing fallen logs.

And then she saw the Light House and the man within;
he looked out through the telescope and she felt eyes on her skin.
She looked up and was blinded; the glow could paralyze her;
he outshone all the others, mother, sister, father, brother.
Confused and touched, she climbed the stairs and waited for her fate.
Destiny came walking and it was not too late.

"Hello," he said to greet her; "hello," she said in turn.
He danced her out of darkness and ensured that she would learn
all of her true value; the beauty kept remote
to ensure those unworthy would have no cause to gloat.
"You sparkle," he informed her; "you sparkle" she said back.
And suddenly a pang of found appeared in place of lack.

He walked her through the House of Light,
lit up her eternal night.
saved her from the melancholy
that had assured her all was folly.
He gave her the keys to his domain
and assured her she would reign.

She was the Queen; he was the King;
they sealed it with his signet ring.
The ships come trembling into port
only to leave with new cohorts;
the Man in the Light House saves them all,
and his noble Queen leaves them in thrall.

They danced tonight; I saw their voices
joined with a necklace of gemstone choices.
Rubies sparked and emeralds shone,
but nothing glowed like they alone.
God was smiling as they sashayed;
no one rains on His parade.

Moses descended from the mountain;
light poured off his face in a fountain.
Originally illuminated in the reflected glitter
of a sacred burning bush unfettered.
This glow was saved and bestowed upon
the Glass-Room girl and her new husband.

The Man in the Light House stays at his post
while she's preparing wine-glazed roast;
cutting onions in prom dresses
are the beginning of many lessons.
God ravished their hearts and made them His,
then gave them eternal bliss.

So let's be happy for the pretty couple
and their singularly entertaining light-house double;
even as they shine, so does the place
that expresses the radiance of their face.