Direction

On this rising tide, I’ll find my light.
That pulls me back to shore.
Then leave the misery, like flotsam on waves.
And think of you no more.
For in my bones and in my eyes.
The brightness burns the dark.
And through the mist, through the pain.
For my lighthouse soul does spark.

10/11/202107/10/2021 by Mark Ryan Categories: leave, pain, seasTags: art, change, flash, hope, light, lighthouse, misery, ocean, poem, Poetry, rhyme, sea, shore, wave, waves Leave a comment