Episode 133: Finding Apollo

The light's gone out;
Some say it's only for a while,
Till it walks back in,
Before we run a mile.

It's just a phase is what they say;
The linesman had earlier that fixed.
But it's in a daze is what its neighbours say-
To that reactions are mixed.

I left them all and looked for his soul;
In the drawer by my shelf-
Its body rough, its tip black,
with disrespect for itself.

I took one of his souls
-he has one for every whim-
And struck it on a path forlorn,
And there he was - alive but dim.

I perched him on his pedestal,
And his gaze flooded my room.
His robe was a sparkling petal,
That came not from any loom.

I had a lot to him to say.
But he wasn't in a mood to talk.
He sat still and shooed the dark away,
And its movements he did stalk.

So I drew the curtain,
and locked the doors,
Just to make certain:
This little light of mine stays indoors-
The world's no place for a bright lost urchin.