The Lighthouse and the Hourglass

There are many more of us Scattered sails among the gusts Coursing 'cross these haunted tides With a reason and a guess. Maybe ours is not of hope — Maybe our fates lead astray — For the spell has once been cast, and once it takes, We only gather 'round the light and fire the hourglasses make. There are stills beneath our beds Stoked by branches of our fallen family trees There is comfort dressed in casket clothes And a bottle embalms us as we go. Well there comes a time to raise A flag we've managed for so long That is hidden in the waves among the graves of mariners' children Who mistook the ocean's way. There's a lighthouse by the bay Where our ships and faiths are safe And with every fading flash Another wave has crashed And every grain of sand is sifting through the hourglass. There are lines meant to cross There are burdens meant to stand There are curses that the follies of our great grandfathers and their wives Have cast upon our lives.