Rekindling Glory

By day it was merely a line; the bottom in ocean, the top in the sky; a giant appearing benign when seen through a distant and innocent eye. The keeper, with cloth and with rod, on legs made of granite, his weary brow damp; ascended like Jacob to God; rekindling glory with labor and lamp. The mariners, weary and wise, returning from ports in the Orient found, when stars had been lost to their eyes, a magical beacon for those homeward bound; A sentinel searching the night; a modern descendent, to honor the name, of Pharos; the island of light; antiquity's wonder of welcoming flame. © 2003 W.D. Neighbors