I am on my own
a Lighthouse Keeper
amidst the Night,
each fly,
in some presence:
coalition of a duty protruding
by thoughts,
delusions,
stories and
what’s exquisite
in sensations that
need guarding,
and then enjoined
with that never ending standing,
watching,
time lapping,
and all that taking place
in the ink hues with
scarlet pulsing as if hurt,
in baby blue
and lilac
by a sacrality
to me solely
constantly
held out
on
a string
to never let go
of
to
another.
This hereby is what each dark reading, watching, listening or passing on purpose works for:
A night shift, to guard the ideas, stories and lives That choose me and occur to me
By the lessons from God’s library
I receive due to the wish
To be of Their world, not of this.
It is a constant duty to carry out as a guardian.
