Author Topic: The Lighthouse Keeper  (Read 1098 times)

Offline Contrapasso

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The Lighthouse Keeper
« on: September 07, 2019, 08:52:21 PM »
The lighthouse keeper sits, with rheumatic legs.

Light pulsates the room; a book by his side, untouched.

His hands resting upon his knees. He thumbs along the flax of his pants for comfort.

Outside, he sees nothing but blackness, even the sweeping light is to him, darkness.

He swallows hard.

He sits with the idea; he may be mad.

He waits upon the slow burn of the wick; the spending of oil, to offer him meaningful purpose.

The townspeople with smiles, will call him today, and forevermore the lighthouse keeper.

And he wonders, if they had these long years, only conspired to keep his mind fixed, between the wick and the oil.
« Last Edit: September 19, 2019, 08:36:59 PM by Contrapasso »