Essays, Art and Plays by Dan

A beacon stands against the storm, Its light cuts through the darkened form.

Above the cliffs where waters rage, A sentinel defies the ocean’s rage.

Waves crash wild on jagged stone, The source of their fury remains unknown.

Yet steadfast shines the guiding gleam, A sailor’s hope, a sailor’s dream.

The sky is painted black and white, As clouds and stars give way to night.

But in the tempest, bold and tall, The lighthouse stands, and will not fall.

Through every gust and ocean’s roar, Its silent strength will always endure.