The Hour of Destiny

All the lights of the small town were quenched by the hand of Darkness
and he covered the pupils
that dilated to resist
and waved the lids to sleep.

He forced the people down with a mighty hammer
to nail them to their beds for a silent spell.

My bulb burns a seal into the Darkness and propels it away.

So I glare hubristically at the corners where the open ceiling protrude into the long walls.
I support my head with my hands as I just lie there mindfully.

As if the souls of the day have conceded
and the world is mine.