Emerging from neglected alley
Nights lance held high.
Longhanded he anoints the street, skilled in the art
He brings the light with equinoctial precision,
féted by humming moths,
soul conductor to dying day.
colour flourished in bastions of hope
of safe return.
Fragile spark picks out
A path through inextinguishable dark
benison bestowed in thankless measures
Illimitable fears of the cold night held back.
With shadows grace the champion retreats
To his silent tower, awaiting dawns hour
to retrieve the boon
when the sun paints the chimneystacks.