The Man in the Lighthouse

Back in the winter of 1991 there was a strange storm one night

It knocked out the light that shined bright in the lighthouse

Fortunately no ships were sailing the ocean on that evening

We were actually looking for a new keeper to tend to the lighthouse

But it seems that men nowadays no longer can make such a commitment


It’s not hard to fully blame them as times have changed from the past

Cities are growing and many want to move on to the next best thing

Not many people appreciate the little things such as the sea and the stars

But the day after the storm there was a man who arrived into town

We’ve never seen him before and yet he seemed like someone familiar


The last light-keeper died from old age but loved the sea and this town

This man however mustn’t even be 28 when he came to inquire about the job

All he had with him besides clothes and some books was his leather journal

One could only assume he writes his thoughts and random things into it

The question is if it’s only meant for his eyes or for someone else’s


He appeared to be a genuine, honest man whenever people spoke to him

There was a certain charisma to him that made people like him

However to the keen eye you could see that he was dampening himself

He was hiding a part of him so that people wouldn’t get so close

It’s strange because you’d swear that he wanted to be very sociable but wasn’t


And off our townsmen took him to the lighthouse by boat with his few things

The people never saw him again except for the rare occasions our town called him

What life was he leaving behind back where he’s from I often wondered to myself

What family was he walking away from, what friends did he silently drift apart of

All these things and more I was curious of about the man in the lighthouse


If anyone looked out far to the lighthouse you might be able to see him

He often sits overlooking the ocean just watching the waters crash along the banks

As if he’s constantly in deep thought while the wind gushes past his face

Did he ever envision himself in this position of being so isolated from everyone

Or did he feel obligated to cast himself to that shore and why do I bother chasing


So one day I took off on a rowboat to go visit with him even if it breaks town rules

It seems most people nowadays just stay in their own world with heads down

Not knowing what interesting characters just happen to be sitting right beside them

Or in this case across the shore, trapped on an isle all to himself, waiting there

But as I kept rowing, the tide only insisted on pushing me elsewhere from him


Eventually I turned back around and decided to wait should he return to land

When he did, I wanted to see why he chose this path and why not leave it

From what I gathered, he tried everything else many times to no avail

The light always called to him although he knew what tides would come

As if he was meant for this even if he did not want to necessarily do it at first


Or maybe he needed the light, just as it needed him, so he could send out a signal

A call that could reach the horizon afar towards something or for someone to see

Although he got along with many, one realizes too late how isolated he has been

He was no longer chasing, yet he was not going to let the lighthouse fully take him

For his hope was as far and patient as the luminescence that beamed out onto the sea

He took this risk knowing what it could mean, but he seemed willing to wait among the stars


On his visit where I spoke with him, he left with a look of contentment with his choices

He never came back to the town and he would go on to be the next old Light-keeper

I truly wished I could’ve told him “Don’t go to the lighthouse! Don’t follow the Light!”

But it was too late and no one was around to tell him this, not friends or family or anyone

Even though we see the sunset, the stars and the light, we all see them differently

And perhaps all he wanted in life was to find those who saw them in a similar way

What I realized is he was chasing after, and running from, the same thing and in the end

There is always a lighthouse, always a man, always someone who will see the light between . . .

Image result for the light between oceans
The Light Between Oceans

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