The Lighthouse

Should any Pharologist find the log
Of that February storm of mariners’ fright.
Where Atlantic meets The Minch in fog
And titans classical in conflict fight.

Let them see anew what raged that night.
Not just sea in clash with wind and sky
Or immortal gods, sinews strained in might,
but conquest of love in midst of turmoil’s cry.

From Faeroe’s Isle a maiden fair betrothed
Leaving two and sixty degrees set sail.
Bow set southward, garland white enrobed.
Resplendent for Valentine wedding tale.

Ashore did keeper of light awake
To watch room patient for the happy sight.
His fiancé traversing horizon to break.
With thoughts of gathering clouds non bright.

West North west from Cape Wrath.
Some thirty eight nautical miles
Aigaios sought battle for Neptune’s staff.
Tropospheric layer lost calming smiles.

Sula Bheinn without your sound
Oh Hebridean monster dare to stare
At crescendos Oceanus from your mound.
The Beaufort scale far from fair.

And then was blown the portent horn.
The keeper swallowed hard the omen.
Church bells rang as lightning born
Engaged - elements wrangling for lives of men.

As keeper of the towering stone of light
His task now more than job arrived.
The sleet began to lash with bite.
His thoughts – His love on sea deprived.

Aghast he found the oil to light
Was lost through iron a’rust with hollows.
His will to act more stirring bright
Than soul succumbed when darkness swallows.

‘For this very hour. THIS VERY HOUR! ’
In shouts of ironic emasculation.
Words begot clarity, begot power.
Held – his vision in encapsulation.

No waxing moon, no stars from turf.
No heavenly sextant, no dizzying compass.
No harboured ship of worth.
No flaming house of light. An impasse.

With thunderous cries, ‘Relent! ’
Aigaios god of storms in strength arose.
Neptune holding on to staff did vent,
‘Never! ’ Lightning answered casting blows.

Titans locked in combat faction
While maiden’s sailing vessel floundered.
Seeming that Thespis had scribed each action
While wind, sea and emotion abounded.

The keeper in his anguish for his maiden
Struck out in leaning visage to the shore.
Sou’wester tight through trudging puddles wade’n.
Yelling out, disconsolate his craw.

The maiden braced in stern as tempest tossed.
No more an imperative could be stressed.
Towards the keeper, their plans now surely lost,
In words that sprang appealing from her chest.

They both cried out in despairing supplication,
‘My maiden fair!’ ‘My keeper rare!’
And somewhere in between in arbitration
Was struck that single note of loving care.

The resonation piercing dark and storm.
Intense more the spirit than in strength
Gathering as substance – given form.
Halted, titans recognised through wave the length.

In that moment Aigaios snatched the staff
And lightning in presto sprites en-masse
Striking sea and land, turning combustibles to chaff.
Finding hidden oil where spillage pooled. Alas!

Then Colossus burst forth its rays.
At last! Intense a permeation.
The lighthouse with no top ablaze
Explosion giving sense to craft where nation.

Then myth and legend start to merge.
That titans did (in their writhing plummet
took quarrel down to murky depths)  submerge.
Intolerant of light with such a summit.

The stillest calm in soonest time,
As if wrath was only name of Cape.
Not so virulent a storm but sublime.
A name on treacherous cliffs to drape.

With background ruined light house framed
Two hearts towards each others beat -
Raced with arms outspread now gained.
Triumphant keeper sweeping maiden off her feet.

For when two souls in unison cry,
Even titans in their very warring throws,
Repose and take heed the forlorn sigh,
In rubric style between their clashing woes.