The Weaver Of The Lighthouse Poem by Vera Dike

In the lighthouse by the restless sea
A solitary figure stands with grace. Her spindle whirls, her fingers free
Weaving threads of time and space.

The stormy waves crash at her feet
Yet calmness dwells within her eyes. She spins the yarn, both coarse and sweet
Mapping out the villagers' ties.

Each thread she twists, a life unfolds
Entwined with others, fate's design. The tapestry of tales retold
In patterns only she defines.

By day, her beacon guards the shore
At night, her loom hums soft and low. The destinies of rich and poor
Through her hands, their futures flow.

O weaver in the lighthouse tall, Your silent work, a mystic art. You hold the threads that bind us all
Spinning life from end to start.