the lonely lighthouse

This lighthouse, we were informed on holiday, is about to fall into the sea.  It waits, fate undecided, as the waves steadily eat the shoreline.

There's something strange about something so solid, and so (formerly) functional being so transient.  Lighthouses have the important role of flashing out a warning, of being a signpost on a dark, dangerous night.  Yet the coast can become so eroded that the lighthouse itself becomes the thing in danger.

I wonder, are there lighthouses in our lives?  Things that we use to correct our course? Things that warn us when we are going wrong?  Have we forgotten what they are there for?

What parts of our lives, our values, our sense of who we are, have become eroded?  If we don't pay attention, the lighthouse starts to teeter dangerously.  The lines we thought we'd never cross become more plausible, less worrisome.  We disregard the flashing light and it fades into obscurity.

Note to self: take care of my lighthouses.