The Lighthouse Poem by DM W

Tall, hollow tower at cliff's edge;
With faded paint of blue and white.
Its walls drenched in battered sea mist:
A beacon in the bleakest night;
An ancient, eyeless monitor.
Crass neon shrines or crude symbols,
Cannot weigh its intrinsic worth.
Modernity's fabled angels,
In their frantic ubiquity,
Can't decipher its coded beams.
Yet it still stands: intransigent;
Iconic & immovable;
As it fulfills its trusted role
Of guiding ships in troubled seas.
It represents wisdom's triumph,
And nobility's sovereignty.