No one could believe that our sun was really gone.

Was it us? Something that we did, or hadn’t done?

We felt numb. Then rage

against the dying of the light.

Facing endless night we tried to conjure it with candlelight,

but tallow only goes a certain way and that’s down.

We fell to the ground in despair

where we stayed, thinking

morning wouldn’t come

so we’d better make the best of it.

Picked ourselves up, dusted down the dark.

Then a spark, a streak, an orange blue hue began to glow

and hope renewed

for a new day’s dawn.