Last Light

Old Poem: A Metaphor for Defending Democracy

Vigorously…we try
To stay the night,
Amplifying the bats
We fight…

To save the last light;

What would become
Of darkness so bright?
Lifeless souls
Encapsulated in fright;

Enumerated chains 
Towing the dreaded line,
Faceless drones
Fallen from time;

Such a demurring sight!

Spinning & Spinning…
Rustling the leaves,
Gusting the blow
& rounding the thieves;

A beggar holding
The world in its hands
Night will not concede
To the rapture of flames;

Rubbing & Rubbing
Hands yet stone,
Friction is tensing
Damn these tired bones!

Now in the fold
Of the tolling hour,
The dark horses approach!
Spare us from devour!

Grinding & grinding…

Is this to no avail?
Towing the line
Or evicting this hell;
 
A glimmer of hope
Vacillating repent,
A hair of smoke
Smells incense of flint;

And we fight…

A promise not worn
To forsake the night
 And keep the skies warm;

To save the last light…