The Lighthouse



Above everything else, I think about the frozen lake. As music flows through the half-open door, falling snow recreates her face. From the city to the sea, and through decorated trees. The landscape is hidden. All swans, invisible. Treading delicately, she melts everything around her. Winter sun, dancing souls upon what was once running water. There is a song, and there is a dream, that never stops playing. Broken flowers and bodies that hide away from the cold. Birds that are chained to the sky and bones wrapped in melancholy. Honey and rings around the eyes. The sun eclipsed by the moon as a meteorite burns far away in the everlasting emptiness. The pathway hidden, her footsteps reveal the secrets of where life once was. Spreading. Revealing. Drifting through the dry air, she smiles as snowflakes rest upon her outstretched hand. Looking at you like a fascinated child, she smiles with delight and keeps them close to her heart. Somewhere in the field of snow, there’s a place where you once stood in the summer months. Gazing up into the endless clouds, you can see it so vividly. The scent of freshly cut grass, the taste of vanilla ice cream. Some sort of fairground. Flashing lights on a lazy Sunday afternoon. Through the maze of your mind and the petrified white trees, the animals are following now. She sings a song they know well. Feathers, bracelets. The horizon is yesterday, and tomorrow is waiting. It waits in her shadow, the shadow of midnight hours. Away from the world, cocooned and beautiful. Shapeless desire, and precious kisses. Solitude. The frozen lake is in the bath, and it calls your name. Submerged and floating, you’re back in the womb. Away from harm, away from the insects that always try to ruin what you are. All the non-believers, they pick away, but they’ll never get the better of you. Somewhere in the darkness, she’s glowing. Faint at first, then shining brightly with a halo upon her head as the animals circle in awe. Monolithic. The lighthouse. She calls to you through the storm, guiding you to safety. Everything is drifting towards the centre, the heart of what we are. It’s a spiral of wonder; a coming together of undeniable truth.

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