The Lighthouse

I am a lighthouse,

And, my sole existence is for the need of others,

I have watched many-a-ships pass and much more sink,

Many sailors have come to my shore for seeking refuge.

There is a light-keeper who chaperones me and I pity him,

He is an old man who is always intoxicated,

He is also a religious man, who believes in the folklores of mermaids,

He stays up in the lens cellar at nights, staring at the vast reaches of the ocean and cursing the ocean's magnitude,

His only ray of happiness seems to be the seagulls circling at the top of the cellar,

His presence is limited, so it's mostly me and my solitude.

There is always a flock of seagulls near the rocky shores,

They all feed on the fish, that get stuck on shores because of the violent waves that rapidly come cruising,

I am a halting point for countless migratory birds,

They dwell at my shores.

In broad sunlight, I often stare into the horizon, till I see a ship, hoping that it sails near me,

At night, there is the occasional cursing of the light-keeper disturbing the tranquility of the ocean under the starry skies,

The blue skies, the blue waters always make me question myself that, "Isn't blue the warmest shade?"

At times, the waters are rough, lightning strikes, and sky roars which tremble me,

The waves come back and forth in a seamless manner and it seems that the earth is shaking,

The light-keeper retreats at the top and prays at the distant skies above and chants in morbid fear,

It happens gradually that the general intensity subsides and peace is restored as it should be.

The mornings with light sunshine and seagulls,

The evenings with the orange sunsets

And the nights with the turbulent sea and the light-keeper's cursing and prayers seem to be the tune of my monotonic existence.