The Mystery Man, an artist that said “imagery comes naturally to me, but words do not,” wrote me this:::::

Lighthouse

Will this love be a north star to my heart?

Or this vess’l crash’d to the oceans wave?

Doubt spews fearful storms to tear us apart.

Conceiving this ocean a welcom’d grave.

Hearken, a light in darkness glows dimly.

A glimmer of hope to show me the way.

Without a home, at sea, lost aimlessly.

Your lighthouse, I find, a welcoming stay.

In this rooted lighthouse I find solace.

Bluest skies, Green pastures, in which I rest.

Together we grow and build a fortress.

I invoke that we tour a lasting quest.

Love has been so harsh to us in the past 

I want this truest love to be our last.