Back in 88,Thomas Smith became the lighthouse watch keep,
He was the first custodian of Kiama lighthouse.
It was a dark spiritual place that tempted the weak to sleep.
Fear and evil can whisk a man’s mind when away from his spouse.
Every night at sunset he would climb the rickety ladder,
And prepare the bright beam in this sanctuary of shadows.
It is men who save lives that the god of the sea would shatter,
But Thomas was tired and saw reflections in the windows.
His old legs strained and shook as he climbed slowly, from floor to floor,
He wiped the sweat from his brow and he dreamed of the old days of peace.
Seeing through the thin veil of the past he wished for nothing more,
Than a quiet night when the raging storms in his ears would cease.
Apparitions appear in the dark sky of a tired mind.
Thomas heard the pleading voice of a young woman in great pain,
“The white witches, tainted me with fire until I was blind,
They would not sanction me, they cast me out in the pouring rain.
I staggered on the jagged rocks but they throw sharp stones at me,
Just here at Kiama water spray I fell into the cave.
The secret of my unborn black-skinned baby died in the sea,
Now I am banished with the wolves of loneliness at my grave.”
Thomas wiped his eyes but the sad and lonely ghost had vanished.
So as he clapped the obedient slaves of his memory,
Letting them soothe the painful truth, until all doubts were vanquished,
He realised there is a place beyond joy and misery.
He was now made proud within limestone walls and shamed by his dreams,
He drifted on the peaceful ocean to a heavenly place,
Filled with multitudes of bright coloured flowers growing in teams.
And this dark world of sinister secrets and shame leaves no trace.
He stood tall and confident in his role as lighthouse watchman,
Although the mist and fog of disappointment had closed his eyes.
Why did he save the ships that toil with the watery demon,
Only to watch the men become killers when the music dies.
The gentleness of the green-blue sea was a welcome haven,
Far from the ghostly lady and the ominous gates of hell,
He was far from the disturbing and terrible world of men.
Sharing the pain of a sad woman but unable to tell.
In the splendid morning Thomas went back to his lonely ways,
Defeated by a place, where joy is brief and misery stays.