The Far Away Lighthouse

Drifting, floating on the edge between the ocean and the realm of stars. Half in this world of roily depths. The other in the place of Phobos and Deimos. Where the silent elders gaze on Mars, greet each other with habit, appetite and Destiny. Starlings, with their tridactyl grasp up on the cassion edge, iridescent. Against a pewter sky with unseen stratocumulus perlucidus, hinted only by. Winking glints of speckled lights from distant giants, burning in the night, disperse.
Aloft as taking flight.

There are stones inside the face of each revealing true histories. This one likes tea. Another a propensity for sweets and a disposition to visible calcium apatite to see. Like the turning of the lamp, upon the promontory collimates a beam upon the horizon. Each word, smile reveals a passing glimpse into the beam being seen by all she spies upon. Crystalline transcendent artifacts of the sessile world below, anchored to the deep. With no compulsion to flee or set the heart ablaze with the untempered lust by wind or.
Seed to throw.

I stare into her face the same, as if a lithosphere reflecting lunar quartz appears. Like substrate of fine, motion, time and space, illusory to my silvered tipped retorts. Anticipation, an esoteric state, the mind invents a memory to replace as mist upon, Works of fiction to review. Tremulous and energetic fields of electro-magnetic dew. Please treat me kindly, nesh and fair, your visage, recondite, ephemeral and true. To shine across my bow none reproofed and lead me steadily to my home with you.
Returning, she repairs.

My little light house far away and filled with all my hope, can you turn once more? This way, to direct my wayward sloop, replete with courage never more to interlope. For what is beauty lost at sea, save the resignation to toss and turn alone, when on. To guidance from your beacon bright, does your luminance shine for all perpetuity. My little light house far way, attract me through the dark and gale, but forget not. Each return of your lustrous antimony yellow, warns sail no closer mate.
A turgid lurking death below.