Saturday, 19 February 2011

The Lighthouse

A tragedy:
He stared from his tower of light,
Tasting salt.
When I look at the world
I see only the numbers, equations,
Formulae holding it together.

A marker-pen:
He painted them – no –

Daubed them on the glass
As the waves broke like
Vulnerable wings, beyond,
Unseen to him.
Pitiful symbols
Of a modern anti-creed.

1 comment: