For we must all have reason; and reason will not leave us limitless.
There is no thief
that traverses the night by darkness;
he cannot find the door
to sell my wares.
My soul is no stale hind of rye,
no lime rind shall grace my table.
For I wear a mask in a masquerade,
and my gilded heart is beckoned
By a brass lantern—
the light that shines,
ever sweeping o'er the sea,
the light that shines on me—
lighthouse biding each ship obedience,
the gulf of night opening its dark mouth.
For we are only one step ahead
of the Filipino street child.