The Phoenix Quill: Words Born of Fire, Inked in Truth

The waves may rise, relentless and bold,
Their frothy peaks, stories untold.
The winds may howl, the skies may weep,
Yet through it all, the lighthouse keeps.

A beacon stands, steadfast, bright,
Piercing through the endless night.
Its golden glow, a tender guide,
Amid the tempest, by your side.

O weary soul, adrift, unsure,
The currents strong, the path obscure,
Lift your eyes to the shining flame,
A promise whispered in its name.

Each pulse of light, a steady hand,
To pull you toward the promised land.
It speaks of hope, of strength unseen,
Of calm horizons, vast and serene.

Do not fear the storm’s embrace,
Its trials mold, its waves erase.
The light endures, the way is clear,
A future bright is drawing near.

For through the shadows, we learn to see,
The beauty found in mystery.
And in the glow, the heart can cope,
Forever guided by the flame of hope.