Water breaks against my stone,
taking a little of me
each day, each day;
but never enough that I lose the light
to show the fishers of men
the Way.
Wind howls in my stairwell,
snatching at the flame I hold
each night, every night;
but no one has the strength to shut the light
I give the bowing pilgrims for
their sight.
Voices baffle in my tower,
mocking my words a little to
each man, every man;
but none has been so loud to drown my winding horn
calling all the lost in
from the sand.
Men abase in faith
before my stony piers, blessing
every day, every day.
My eyes never blind; my voice never stalls;
and my Love, as strong as stone will
always stay.
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