The luminator


The man who lights the streets


In city streets which span

Score leagues, intertwining,

There is a lonely man

Who roams the late evening,

He sees the day dying

And the birth of its twin,

Both discreetly prying

Over the city’s sin,

There, on the desert roads,

In the midst of silence

He protects the abodes

With his magical lance

From the cold and the dark,

From this fear ever old;

For when glows the bright spark

The nightmares, back, must fold.


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