Stories
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The Old Man of the Lamp
On a rock, atop a cliff, shrouded in the evening light,
Wrapped in scents of salt and earth, an age-long gaze into the night,
That hasn’t wavered, hasn’t fallen, down into the sea below,
Solid as the sun returning, ancient as the star-it glow,
A place where stories settle deep.
A touch of sadness, and of madness, sweeping in and out each day,
The birds are wheeling, lifting, feeling, all the souls that pass this way,
There is no age, nor rage about this place, that long has gone,
Left behind, the hands of time, that linger on the siren’s song,
The ancient years begin to seep.
We’ll walk the path of days that passed, and wander through their joy and pain,
Until we reach the start, and turn, to face the gentle written rain,
A life was lived in this tall tower, young love times two, infinity,
A light-house keeper and his wife, quite blind by its divinity,
Its power shone out across the waves.
The ships they came, the ships sailed through, guided safely by the eye,
Each night that fell, the lamp was lit and shone triumphant to the sky,
The monsters of the sea left dry, no souls were sunk into their depths,
And every grateful sailor laughed, and praised with all their living breaths,
But day is fragile, sunlight frays.
The keeper’s wife was kind, but frail and struggled she against the gales
that often plundered, cast asunder, little ships with little sails,
One cold November, still remembered, came a wild and violent storm,
The clouds were whipped, the sea was stripped, a whirling pit of water, torn,
No good can come of nights like these.
The light it tried, the light it died, rattled in its high flung place,
The darkness came, and quickly claimed, a ship struck rock, the sailors braced
themselves against the knife like rocks and raised their voices in their woe,
The keeper’s wife, she heard their strife – ‘We must go save them, we must go!’
The storm it crackled and it teased.
They left the safety of their home and battled down the cliffside path,
They slipped and tripped and slithered on, and still the wind unleashed its wrath,
And there before them, broken open, lay the stricken Mary Lou,
Hearts and fingers reaching for them – Save Our Souls – they screamed anew,
And one by one they pulled them free.
Tired, weary, streaked with tears, the last of all the sailors hauled
himself to safety, praying greatly to the Gods that harshly ruled,
When all were saved the keeper reached afar, to where his wife clung brave,
Worn out was she, and couldn’t see, the last of all her strength she gave,
She slipped and fell into the sea.
The keeper gasped and numbly grasped a rope, and tied it round his waist,
Quick to throw himself in after, quick to join her sudden fate,
But hands they held him, dragged him, felled him, drew him back from Hell’s embrace,
He fought them long, but they were strong, and she was gone without a trace,
The storm had claimed a dreadful prize.
When daybreak came the sun was weak, and small pale clouds were scattered far,
They did not dare disturb the keeper, in his tower he sat ajar,
He stared across the calmer waters, broken by a gentle breeze,
Watching, waiting for a sign that God had lied, had only teased,
But nothing moved before his eyes.
And though the sun climbed in the sky, a chill descended on the day,
Never had a heart that loved been so completely washed away,
He feared his love was lost in death, her spirit cast adrift to roam,
Not in Heaven, nor in Hell, no place to call her ghostly home,
He wept and vowed to ease her pain.
And from that hour, when sunlight fell, he left the lamp as dark as night,
He would not light it, he would fight, for he believed that he was right
to gather lives to join his lover, and he felt her sweet caress,
The wind blew on, it knew no wrong, it had no secrets to confess,
I fear that madness now will reign.
And so began an age of fear that sailors call the darkest days,
No light to guide them, death would find them, floundering in the deep set waves,
So many fates were brought to waste against this cold and rocky shore,
And through it all, the keeper tall, silent as the tide brought more,
The air it filled with screaming souls.
Those who tried to stop him, on his love-lorn mission, met his wrath,
He would not stop, until surrounded by the slimy hands of death,
As he grew old, the lamp stayed cold, the waves awash with broken bows,
His beard grew long, the whales sad song was filled with tales of splintered vows,
And on the endless ocean rolls.
This place once bright, descended to the murky depths, all lightness gone,
Thick with lives that could not leave, the air it heaved and breathed as one,
And in amongst the chaos deep, he felt each death twist on a knife,
And he wondered if perhaps, there was no goodness to this life,
The old man of the lamp turned pale.
He held his hands high in the air, and bellowed to the clouds above,
‘I was wrong, my darling wife, I see that now, oh dearest love,
Please forgive me, please come save me, lead these sorry souls away,
Lead them to the path of mercy, God help me, for I’m cast astray’,
And all the sunken sailors wailed.
Then slowly, like a flower growing, came a sparkle in the dark,
And as it grew, the restless dead, on their last journey did embark,
The light of ages took them all, the keeper still, as they moved on,
Until at last she stood before him, kissed him once, then they were gone,
The earth it stretched, the sea it sighed.
The grass it grew, and shook the shackles of the long lean years behind,
The daylight burned, the world it turned and sea pinks danced, no more confined,
The lamp renewed, now brightly fuelled, the ships were safely carried through,
The tide washed in, the tide washed out, the sky it turned a summer blue,
And lifetimes like the sands slipped by.
On a rock, atop a cliff, shrouded in the evening light,
Wrapped in scents of salt and earth, an age-long gaze into the night,
That hasn’t wavered, hasn’t fallen, down into the sea below,
Solid as the sun returning, ancient as the star-it glow,
A place where stories settle deep.
A touch of sadness, and of madness, sweeping in and out each day,
The birds are wheeling, lifting, feeling, all the souls that pass this way,
There is no age, nor rage about this place, that long has gone,
Left behind, the hands of time, that linger on the siren’s song,
The ancient years begin to seep.
We’ll walk the path of days that passed, and wander through their joy and pain,
Until we reach the start, and turn, to face the gentle written rain,
A life was lived in this tall tower, young love times two, infinity,
A light-house keeper and his wife, quite blind by its divinity,
Its power shone out across the waves.
The ships they came, the ships sailed through, guided safely by the eye,
Each night that fell, the lamp was lit and shone triumphant to the sky,
The monsters of the sea left dry, no souls were sunk into their depths,
And every grateful sailor laughed, and praised with all their living breaths,
But day is fragile, sunlight frays.
The keeper’s wife was kind, but frail and struggled she against the gales
that often plundered, cast asunder, little ships with little sails,
One cold November, still remembered, came a wild and violent storm,
The clouds were whipped, the sea was stripped, a whirling pit of water, torn,
No good can come of nights like these.
The light it tried, the light it died, rattled in its high flung place,
The darkness came, and quickly claimed, a ship struck rock, the sailors braced
themselves against the knife like rocks and raised their voices in their woe,
The keeper’s wife, she heard their strife – ‘We must go save them, we must go!’
The storm it crackled and it teased.
They left the safety of their home and battled down the cliffside path,
They slipped and tripped and slithered on, and still the wind unleashed its wrath,
And there before them, broken open, lay the stricken Mary Lou,
Hearts and fingers reaching for them – Save Our Souls – they screamed anew,
And one by one they pulled them free.
Tired, weary, streaked with tears, the last of all the sailors hauled
himself to safety, praying greatly to the Gods that harshly ruled,
When all were saved the keeper reached afar, to where his wife clung brave,
Worn out was she, and couldn’t see, the last of all her strength she gave,
She slipped and fell into the sea.
The keeper gasped and numbly grasped a rope, and tied it round his waist,
Quick to throw himself in after, quick to join her sudden fate,
But hands they held him, dragged him, felled him, drew him back from Hell’s embrace,
He fought them long, but they were strong, and she was gone without a trace,
The storm had claimed a dreadful prize.
When daybreak came the sun was weak, and small pale clouds were scattered far,
They did not dare disturb the keeper, in his tower he sat ajar,
He stared across the calmer waters, broken by a gentle breeze,
Watching, waiting for a sign that God had lied, had only teased,
But nothing moved before his eyes.
And though the sun climbed in the sky, a chill descended on the day,
Never had a heart that loved been so completely washed away,
He feared his love was lost in death, her spirit cast adrift to roam,
Not in Heaven, nor in Hell, no place to call her ghostly home,
He wept and vowed to ease her pain.
And from that hour, when sunlight fell, he left the lamp as dark as night,
He would not light it, he would fight, for he believed that he was right
to gather lives to join his lover, and he felt her sweet caress,
The wind blew on, it knew no wrong, it had no secrets to confess,
I fear that madness now will reign.
And so began an age of fear that sailors call the darkest days,
No light to guide them, death would find them, floundering in the deep set waves,
So many fates were brought to waste against this cold and rocky shore,
And through it all, the keeper tall, silent as the tide brought more,
The air it filled with screaming souls.
Those who tried to stop him, on his love-lorn mission, met his wrath,
He would not stop, until surrounded by the slimy hands of death,
As he grew old, the lamp stayed cold, the waves awash with broken bows,
His beard grew long, the whales sad song was filled with tales of splintered vows,
And on the endless ocean rolls.
This place once bright, descended to the murky depths, all lightness gone,
Thick with lives that could not leave, the air it heaved and breathed as one,
And in amongst the chaos deep, he felt each death twist on a knife,
And he wondered if perhaps, there was no goodness to this life,
The old man of the lamp turned pale.
He held his hands high in the air, and bellowed to the clouds above,
‘I was wrong, my darling wife, I see that now, oh dearest love,
Please forgive me, please come save me, lead these sorry souls away,
Lead them to the path of mercy, God help me, for I’m cast astray’,
And all the sunken sailors wailed.
Then slowly, like a flower growing, came a sparkle in the dark,
And as it grew, the restless dead, on their last journey did embark,
The light of ages took them all, the keeper still, as they moved on,
Until at last she stood before him, kissed him once, then they were gone,
The earth it stretched, the sea it sighed.
The grass it grew, and shook the shackles of the long lean years behind,
The daylight burned, the world it turned and sea pinks danced, no more confined,
The lamp renewed, now brightly fuelled, the ships were safely carried through,
The tide washed in, the tide washed out, the sky it turned a summer blue,
And lifetimes like the sands slipped by.