The torchbearer

In the middle of the night
The torchbearer summons
The beauty of the light,
Going on into the darkness
His soul summons
All that he is sure happens.
There a sprightly maiden,
Here a bustling youth,
The torchbearer reddens,
His suit far too crude.
Marching forward, guided
By incandescence,
He brings forth a mighty
Nose for nonsense.
Scurrying feet,
Bursting loins,
Here the torchbearer arrests
His march
And barges into the darkness,
Lobbing his torch at the comers,
Not sure what happens,
The torchbearer lies.
Deathly silence,
On into the night,
Running with spright,
The torchbearer lies.