The Beacon

THE BEACON He has been transmitting his message for a thousand years now Repeatedly, but; intermittently, much as the cosmos would allow He was a beacon of eternal love, of a goddess, he as left behind Through birth, death, and re-birth, would be forever intertwined Separated; not by choice, but; by a matter of intergalactic force Waiting endlessly; for both to be placed, on their rightful course She; but, a slave to the galaxy totally unaware of her own plight Does not hear the messages sent onto her, every starless night Her darken shell, carrying all the scars, from straying meteorites No longer in the path of the sun, fails her chance to shine bright Her blindness prevails with an innocence so continues to endure In the cruelty of her own loneliness, no will have she, to procure The thought of belongingness within the un-limitation of others The messages still sent, to which the cosmos dust as smothers The chance for her, to see his light shine bright, his own beacon Hear his eternal messages, built to last, never shall they weaken Until time which has its own rhyme and reason as falls into place When these two stars will align; within, the sun’s warm embrace Indiana Shaw . . .