What is it about you, 
and your cousins alike,
that we all so revere?

Is it your proud gantry,
and your curved masonry,
encircling, course by course,
stepping up and inclining,
honing that soaring slant,
which braces your feet, to
lean against the sea winds?

Or, is it your giant height,
extending through layers,
of earth-bound busyness,
to watch over the waves,
above ship-slicing rocks,
and damp wood-rotting soil,
which tenders might ignore?

Is it your outward stare,
surveying lone horizons,
through the eye of your soul,
that blazing optic nerve,
which perceives while giving
beckoned care and cautioned
warnings to distant ships?

Or, is it the beauty,
of your bold-striped stalk,
planted closely beside,
that meek supply reserve,
your light-keepers abode,
with polished history,
in cloth, lens and purpose?

Is this why we are so lured
to gaze at you? Is it
to honor such duty,
and inhale deeply – that
pure fresh air – which flows from
your noble intentions?

Or, is it, I wonder,
if we might see ourselves
in your essence? You do
echo human values.

So maybe that grabs us,
that living metaphor
you demonstrate so well.
Maybe so. It could be.

Yet, do you and other
lighthouses realize;
you are essentially
empty without the light?