Before its stones collapse into darkness, the old lighthouse imagines a final blaze of glory that never comes.

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The eagle soared high above the purple sea,

dark wings embracing the darkness of the night

A lonely lighthouse stood its vigil, tall and free,

alone on the shore, a noble and honorable knight

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Diving down and below, the eagle peered closely,

and his mighty heart was filled with a heavy sorrow

The lighthouse was crumbling down and in ruins, mostly,

it may have had a wonderful past, but no tomorrow

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The lonely lighthouse was very old, now just a token,

its tall structure, draped and cloaked in grey shadows

The glass lantern was long shattered and broken,

who broke it, and why and when? Who really knows?

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The sea was cruel and was full of wind and storms,

terribly angry and high waves venting frustration

Breaking apart furiously in white foam of many forms,

the foundation badly shaking, but still holding station

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The storms wrecked ships and boats, big and small,

hundreds of souls lost, and at sea, they all perished

The lighthouse stood on the shore and watched them all,

the loss was dire; there was nothing to be cherished

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It served no noble purpose or aim, no, not anymore,

a lighthouse devoid of any beacon or shining light

Being old and crumbly did not make him any sore,

having no light was its biggest tragedy and plight

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He just stood alone and prayed to God Almighty,

he prayed for nothing else but one single last chance

A last chance to fulfill his only purpose and legacy;

a dying shaman pleading and begging for a last dance

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Maybe God listened to him as He is kind and benevolent,

plucking a burning star from the heavens, He tossed it down

Hitting the tower, it exploded in embers, an event so malevolent,

but it lit the beacon, making the lighthouse wear a gold crown

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‘Ah! I have fulfilled my legacy, and now I can die satisfied’,

the lighthouse loudly yelled its last-ever cry of sheer joy

Very briefly, it was alight, at least it seemed as if it tried,

but to the wandering and lost ships, it sure cried ‘ahoy!’

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The eagle soared high above the dark, inky depth,

watching the shooting star and the high-burning fire

Sadly watching the lighthouse crumbling, it’s sad death,

he prayed for its noble soul over the burning pyre

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But, no desires were fulfilled that fateful, dark night,

God was busy elsewhere; there was no grand scheme

It was peaceful, no shooting stars, no fire, and no light

Alas! the lighthouse was only dreaming its last dream