Be the lighthouse, be it a brilliant or broken one. Be privy to the day’s durability—the rough reaping of the sea foam from the tumbles of the waves. And bear witness to the rocking ships shifting and fleeting, sailing and sinking—forever or never fulfilling their foray.
Be there like the lighthouse smooth against the rocky ledges, the crags and snags of whipping winds and sea birds’ talons. Endure the night. The long ride. A race flooded with a trillion entries of lights. Be still and shine. Shine amongst the stars and stay til dawn. Outlast the night lights. Stay past the morning sun and welcome the rise of the newest formation of life.
Stand tall against the backdrop of a drooping tide, ebbing and flowing, gasping for air, wildly unyielding, and you, be still. And be unstoppable, unshakeable, enduring the countless storms of hurricanes and typhoons, and be unshakeable and unsinkable, dear lighthouse, as the tsunami barrels toward you and the tidal wave topples over you.
Swing your light round, and when your light shines no more, stay standing at the edge, tall battered, broken yet visible for all to see. The lighthouse doesn’t cast itself to sea seeking its ships, it stands still at the edge and effortlessly draws them near.