Lighthouse

Standing on your toes,
You have let me dance through life.
Watched the world peering over the broad shoulders,
As you'd slowed down the pace,
And the simplified the wise ways.
You'd let me love the sunsets,
Instilling in me a faith in the sunrises,
Of a newer better tomorrow.
Letting me choose my pathways,
You've always let me have my way,
Forever remaining as a silent messiah,
A beacon in the dark-
Illustrative of all of Wisdom's good.
You have never painted me a picture
Of an ideal reality.
Rather, sacrosanct,
I hold your view,
Of a fulcrum outdoing darkness.
In my ascent,
Your words ring true,
As I gain my strength and composure.
I think of  you too,
At home,
Waiting and watching with a knowing look,
An omniscient supreme.
The hearth drawer and the painter of many dreams,
I have watched the sublime dreamer in you subside and submit.
Yet the surrender - though negated by most-
Was never seen as paltry.
My rise must mark its cognizance.
The hands that have conjured smiles on many,
Are those to be nurtured and nursed.
Therein lies a feat.
And as the cherub climbs up the ropes of evolution,
The lighthouse must shine on for her too-
Panning across miles and waves-
To illumine her a way she must choose.