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
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!"