There are some nights
like clockwork I find myself
ticking up the stone steps
of the lighthouse
There are some nights
cloaked in melancholy
staring out, wide-eyed
across the freezing seas of time
There are these nights
I sit, quietly, by the lens
wondering of all the other nights
I have sat quietly wondering…
A thread of light stretches backwards
through all my life
sewing together
these contemplative moments
connecting me with my younger selves
We all sit there on different steps
looking out to sea
with our lifetime of bad haircuts
and our silver fountain pens
each more expensive than the one before
We all wonder in an echo
we all wonder
‘Am I right? Is my aim true?
do I have any aim at all?
Where am I going?’
I long to reach out a hand somehow
send out a boat to them
I worry for those lost souls
adrift on wild seas
rocking in churning waters
without a lot of hope
Through the thick blanket of night
I sense
the face of a future me
he looks healthier, happier
richer somehow
looking back
across the freezing seas of time
fondly and encouragingly
he’s smiling back at me…
[2015]
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The Lighthouse 
Oh wow!! Incredible x
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Ah thank you! Really glad you liked it. 🙂
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This is beautiful!
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Ah so glad you like it… re-reading your old writing is like time traveling and if you do it often you begin to imagine your future. This poem was me joining the dots between the past and the future and me, here, now (in 2015) 🙂
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yes, it’s like a trip
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…..and our silver fountain pens
each more expensive than the one before!
I have a drawer full, all now dried up – but the words still flow! (there’s a poem in that)
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There certainly is Peter… The little souvenirs of our writing journeys or the spent ammunition from the battles we won. I like the way objects can trigger memories; which makes me a bit of a hoarder of old writing paraphernalia. Thanks for reading and commenting.
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I love the idea of looking up an down a line of different pasts and different futures.
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Thanks Chris, as I said to Bree, those reflective/anticipatory moments were a key part of the way I used to write; alone in the middle of night. I write more often during the day now and the daylight seems to create a different kind of poem. It’s nice to finally have a choice! Thanks for reading and commenting. It’s really rewarding to know this one translated.
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Tom, Tom, Tom… I remember reading this one in your book. There are so many brilliant lines and I feel as though I watch the man you were, are and will be as the poem unfolds. Well done my friend, we’ll done… A timeless piece of writing.
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Thank you so much Bree. I have a real soft spot for this one. I wanted to capture all those nights alone with a pen, looking forwards and backwards and creating these little markers along the path of a life. And I genuinely wish I could reach out a hand or some wisdom to my younger self, but instead it’s best to look ahead. Thanks for reading and commenting. 🙏👍😀
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It’s an interesting thought isn’t it… Extending kindness to your past self. So, I am (as always) still learning the art of extending self-compassion to myself now.
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Always be kind to yourself Bree. Always.
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P.S. Thanks for buying my book! A real hero!
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A hero you say? Nah…I think you might have a pretty low bar of what a hero is 😂😉
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