You are a lighthouse.
You are a guide, repeating the light.
You are unmissable, unmistakeable;
And you are mine.

You are the tree on top of a lonely hill.
The traffic light on a high pole.
The Angel of the North for the motorway traveller.
You are the Spinnaker Tower by the water.
And the pillar box by the village green.

You are not to blend in.
You are to stand tall and noticeable where You are.
Where I have placed you.
Where I have chosen you to be.
Because I have sent you.
And I didn’t send you by accident.

This is your place.
This is the place I have put you.
You are where you are by my hand.
And I did not send you to go unnoticed.

The pillar box is everyday and ordinary.
And it goes unnoticed from day to day.
But it is not camouflaged. It does not hide.
It will not be obscured or screened.

The traffic light on the high pole shines its light.
Day and night
Calling on, warning and stopping those
who would race by.

The tree on the hill calls to passers by
Inspires the walker to climb and see.

The Angel of the North spreads its wings in greeting to every traveller.
The Spinnaker watches the passing ships and
echoes the shape of each
wind-blown sail.

You are not to blend in.
Repeat the light.
You are to call out, to greet, to inspire;
To echo every voyager.
To call on and warn and invite to pause.
This is what you are to do.
Be sent.
Be placed.
Be present.
This is what you are to do.



 

 

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