Dusk's Beacon

As day concedes to the velvet of dusk,

A lighthouse stands, in solitude, robust,

The sea, a canvas of twilight's tender musk,

Rocks lie smothered in the mist's gentle tusk.

 

The beacon glows, a heartbeat in the night,

A guardian's lamp, a symbol of foresight,

Against the endless whispers of oceanic might,

It stands a solitary figure, in the fading light.

 

The waters dance with a ghostly grace,

Around rugged stones, in an eternal embrace,

The world is hushed, as if in silent prayer,

Beneath the lighthouse's steady, watchful stare.

 

In this moment where the elements convene,

The scene breathes peace, so serene,

This portrait of dusk's beacon, alone and keen,

Captures the soul's reprieve, rarely seen.

 

Let this image linger in your mind's eye,

A solace from the world, under the painted sky,

In the lighthouse’s watch, let your troubles lie,

As the day gently exhales, and the night draws nigh.

Done