Beacons

We all stand fully in view,

Beacons for those who watch.

If brightly lit we show the way home

And provide an alert to dangerous hazards.

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Light, though, is a choice we must make.

An effort to kindle and maintain.

Steps climbed to windows which must be scrubbed and cleansed

Checking ourselves in order to provide guidance to others.

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Some towers stand silent

Unwilling to light the darkness.

Either not believing they make a difference

Or too indifferent to others to make the effort.

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Although, perhaps they are shining,

But their lenses are so dirty that the light is never seen?

They blind themselves with the intensity of the glare

That burns out their reason and warms nothing.

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To spread the light as guidance and warning,

to keep others safe and help them home.

Or to burn with an inner intensity that scorches and blinds?

The choice is up to the soul that keeps the lighthouse.

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Either way, the decision impacts those who watch.

What is your decision, O' Beacon?

As for me I need to climb those many steps once more

Doing the work to keep my own windows clean.