Cry, Beacon

What of light resembles purpose?
Guide to those who tread dark, traveling life's unforgiving currents
No visibility in Mother Nature's backyard; where the wild things are
Illuminate my way to freedom
As I loom in wait, with fireflies
Wiping sleep from my tired eyes
I'll be here - waning in the Moon's last performance
A front row spectacle
Enchanting, yet cold
Bitter, but sweet
The sensation never gets old
It echos just beyond my ears, even still
You just have to let go
It's okay, cry, Beacon
Shine through me