Steadily gazing, over the rolling sea,
All alone in the shade of a solitary tree
He faces the west, with sightless eyes
His face stained by the tracks of tears,
Reminders of his vigil for so many years
Eons of time having passed him by,
A profound sorrow his visage does imply
Yet he stands from Lord knows when
Standing watch over his sleeping brethren
He doesn’t know that his purpose is served
His service, by his masters no more required.
For they all lie at rest now, down below
Unaware as all around, time continues to flow
The watcher stands as if nothing were amiss
Carrying out his task, oblivious to this
The ceaseless winds borne over the bay
Buffet him as always with salt and spray
He doesn’t feel the sand or the constant dust
He senses no pain, just a lingering trust
Set here so long back, to stand and guard
He continues to do so… his features scarred
He watches years go by and seasons change
Unremembered and forgotten, a relic strange
He stands on the cliff, his expression lined
The ocean ahead and graves behind
As he watches the sun turn red again
A daily act before the night’s reign
He feels no longing, nor desire of rest
His sole charge, to exist… and stare west…
Based on an image I came across at a photography exhibition...
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