The Devil's LightA Poem by LenwhitneyA lighthouse wrecks passing ships for a nefarious purpose.The Devil's Light
The waves do crash upon the shore, the lighthouse a dying sun. The rain it falls like ne'er before. The Devil's work begun.
A ship, a ship, with shortn'd sail doth in the tempest roll. She struggles, but to no avail. The sea saves nay a soul.
But see, those souls which wither fly against the tempests' might. see the lighthouse, set on high and see the dying light.
They fly on towards that lighted tower each mariner in turn and giving up their earthly power the light more brightly burns.
And as each sailor rises on to join that burning lens, their souls glow like the early dawn. Dispelled, the tempest ends.
For no safe haven is this cove, just shallows, rocks and shoals. A tapestry the Devil wove for ensnaring salt-rimed souls.
'Tis on those the light depends to feed its hellish glow. A watery grave its light portends, its graveyard, down below.
Each ship a crypt, each sail a shroud, yardarms mark the graves and no reward for faith avowed beneath the rolling waves.
So on and on that dark sea roils, the tempest blows at night. The Devil takes his sea-dead spoils to power his Devil's light.
Now ev'ry ship and ev'ry tar, mark these words and heed. Set thy course by a different star, or the Devil's light ye'll feed.
© 2009 LenwhitneyFeatured Review
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Added on July 18, 2009Last Updated on July 19, 2009 Author
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