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We walked through the night,
into the stale humidity of summer.
Cool and sticky---never to be ignored,
what stood had no form,
such was nature,
just a stranger in the mist?

Naught, not a face looked from our shadows,
eyes that leapt into the garish,
Foolish Fire, we cried "you there!"

"Lonely Will-o’-the-wisp,
do your lanterns burn
for the lost and meek?"

Ethereal reply, we stared and denied.
"Ne’er-do-well, you haplessly rest,
unaware of a past,
that aimlessly seeks to pull you beneath.
Dregs of curiosity shine,
as flames, as Polaris in mind,
glimmering in our eyes,
a ghost light demise."