The Lighthouse

It's odd counting the steps in my life I have taken.
The turns I have made, the roads I have travelled,
From running away, to standing quite near.
Now adrift on the waves, I find I’m unanchored.

To the life raft I cling as the waves whisper "capsizement",
and the Lighthouse stands proud on a faraway island.
With both paddles and hands as the tide pulls me away,
I fight with the waves as they tumble and crash.

Coming ashore, into the void I do tumble,
it is empty and cold, like that deepness inside.
On the surface: the love. I the deep: lonely tides
But that side, deep down, there is no need to hide.

Sackcloth and ashes get peeled from my flesh,
to the lighthouse I stumble, new things I confess.
The past on the sideline screams things in distress,
no honour is given, it slinks off depressed.

The door to the Lighthouse stands open and wide,
but the stairs are so narrow they press to my side.
They carry uneven, some high and some low,
the climb unexpected, both bulky and slow.

I climb to the top with the light at my back,
peeling off the last of that ungodly sack.
I look down and see every step I have taken,
The highs and the lows, the stumblin' and breakin'.

But each step is measured, a brick it became,
for the house I am building, the bricks aren't the same.
But a purpose they have, and each fitted and jointed.
to be used, this I pray, for matters anointed.

On top of this Lighthouse, I see the waves crash,
I see far and wide and whisper "not today".
For the road now ahead has light as its bearing.
Each step, with a purpose, in His name I will take.