wb :

If ever you have paused your step
Upon the shadow of a sheltered light
And gazed upon the neon-neutered night
Then, mayhap

If you have also heard the voices
Calling, that never listen,
Purring, with every piston
Of a billion vices

If you have heard the cries at night
Of those that wander, those that drink,
Those that halfway peer across the brink
And shudder too with fright,

Then, perhappenstance, you know
That virile madness that is darkness
Must share its terror with its tenderness
And has to go.

And eyes that stare into oblivion
Shall find respite in stuttered lamps,
In limp caress of lukewarm damps
And blind delirium.