You are the lighthouse Amid my storm, The guide, While my sails are worn. I am cracked by my hull, As you never let me sink Into my own debris, In my own tears, By my own fears. You are merciful, As I've been fanciful In seeing my pain wither away, In desiring my arms to drown it In this sea of myself. My own reflection Is a mere disposition, Is a mere faltering In all my shouldering Of aching sadness, Of missing gladness. I've been wasteful, While you've been tasteful In the decor to my solace. You've been the anchor To my sorrow. You've been the cradle From where I wallow. You are to where I fall silent, As my cries are gone, As I lift myself to the dawn.