Look at my hues earthlings, says the sky, decked in mesmerizing hues of orange. The sky however is moody; changing colours on it's own whim and fancy. Sometimes it is sombre and grey, sometimes dark and menacing and at times bedecked in hues that can give even the most beautiful maiden, an inferiority complex. Through it all, stands the lighthouse at the beach. Stoic in its will power, unconcerned, even a trifle wary of the hues of the sky. It has a job to do, an important one. So the hues of the sky fail to impress it. It knows that a colourful sunset today could well mean the brewing of a storm tomorrow, somewhere on the vast stretches of the inky blue sea. Standing stoic at edge Indifferent to hues of sky... The saviour of lives.
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