I believe in you, may your love stand. (97 words.)
The Lighthouse, for 97 years you remained lit, long after the sea had gone with him.
Your light has no more water to shine onto, Lighthouse. Despite that, you shine — across empty plains of salt, revolving perpetually without ships left for you to guide.
There is not a time your light has failed since.
None has entered you, Lighthouse, and none has left you but one. Inside, the book beside your lantern receives a new entry every dawn, in the handwriting of your keeper, who drowned 97 years ago, when your light failed to guide him home.
