Dreaming of Dawn

I lie beside the lighthouse,

and look over the morning sea.

My idea of heaven, this,

gulls and saline air,

isolation and serenity.

The sea floods with pink and red,

as far away, at the horizon,

a glorious circle breaches,

rising into the sky,

lighting up the world.

Science says, a ball of gas!

And no more.

One of countless stars!

And no more.

But it is more.

It brings warmth and life,

Joy and activity to the human hives,

Flowers awake and peek at it,

drawing in its miraculous energy,

all life is fuelled by it.

Sitting, on a rough blanket,

I see the frothing waves splash,

playful, against pink beaches,

I imagine, beneath the swells,

the sea, a blushing aquarium.

The village boys, rush out of their homes,

and spill onto the shore, down below.

They cherish the dawning beauty,

and the night-chilled sea,

shouting in delight.

I look at the waking village.

Grown up men yawn, and curse.

Grown up women rub their faces, and curse.

The sun earns not a single glance.

Men have forgotten its beauty.

But the children will remember.