Stories are told
Older than old
Of the flame which once burnt in the sky

Nightfolk are we
in darkness we see
All that we need to survive.

Some strangers have come
to our permanent glum
Proposing to re-light our sun

But we’ve come so far
without a warm star
We’d prefer that they turn ’round and run.

The tales are true
These people aren’t new
to this forsaken rock of home.

We have no appeal
Outmached in this ordeal
The Sun relights atop heaven’s dome.

For all of our labors
We now have new neighbors
to share our newly lit land.

It won’t be easy
the light makes us queasy
But they’re willing to give us a hand.