Tonight.
Your face is a lantern in this low light.
That slightest smile, expectant but unassuming,
Has pushed away all darkness from your countenance.
I should build a fortress in this light, and from this light.
With bricks of solid photon, with crenelations and buttresses,
Jeweled bowers, scintillating statuaries,
And a soaring tower that reaches up and out forever like a searchlight.
We could live in that brilliant palace,
Among the creatures that collect in such places:
Fulgivorous pinwheels, radiances, sparklers, refractolators,
And us, of course. We are drawn to the light like any persons
Who have known darkness, and who can, for a time, do without.