I saw the sun set upon the city and knew it would never rise again. There would be nothing but darkness, darkness there forevermore. And the people of that city still are weeping, still are weeping, and I hear them yet implore: Come o sun, oh rise again; o light of heaven, rise. But still the darkness broods above her towered cityscape, there to rise, oh nevermore.
And yet a man, I know this man myself, still walks the streets, holding a little sun, a little lamp, a meager flame bound in a glassy orb. How they shudder there, the people of that city, when my light will stab their eyes; they shudder and cry out, crying for the sun to rise and save them, but the sun will only drive these ghosts away, for they are darkness now, whispering ghosts, that have forgotten they are dead.
Tale Told 