And I can barely get my grip.
Wisps of her,
A smoke in dark and rainy London nights.

And the cold,
and sting of alcohol on lips,
and my voice the rumbling thunder,
and her eyes the flashing sky,
and if there were angels
a whole host would hold it's breath:
BEHOLD, oh heaven,
he reaches out...

They wonder,
They watch and consider
what may unfold.

Let there be light.
Please,
he says in his heart,
let there be light.