The Infidel

He cursed the light

that once dispelled his darkness;

He blew the flame out

and stepped into the darkness

whence he came.

The light was but a flick'ring flame:

no real warmth, no steady light

it gave.

The candle-bearers all

were walking in darkness still

(though showing off their candles);

they hurt him with their candle sticks:

candle flames burning soft thin skin.

Not enough to make a martyr's pyre,

But enough to make an infidel.

And the light died out

– 'twas his wish –

Yet his soul cried out:

"Let there be light!"

Author: attycortes

Filipino lawyer, preacher, composer.

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