I long to glimpse the lighthouse at Marion Strait,
And at last spy the entrance to my homeward gate.
Like a mother I called to in the cold foggy night,
Against dark stormy skies, she stood strong and forthright.
My world was a reflection in her pristine glass,
the once beckoning beacon to my peaceful past.

Now crystal and candle is deaf to my woeful calls.
Her granite bones lie scattered as driftwood on shoals.
Wind pierced, salty eyes laden with rain
search for her bright fiery heart.
But all that remains is an abyss upon an
endless ocean without chart.
A mournful gale blows me closer to dark rocky shores
in a night moonless and angry.
My once trusting ship is wayward and small,
drowning in a sea, eagerly hungry.
Without your light, I am doomed to drift.