Light be Harboured

As the soot is gathered by ends of wicks and fingertips as the warm glow of the living flame is extinguished, I am from before the bitter cold and unclean hands. 
When the darkness swayed and gave way to my presence evading consumption, and spelling out the all too familiar outlines of our animate selves and inanimate surroundings alike. Only to be invited in times of grief and exhaustion. As the cyclic revolution lends to the habitual rise of Light and fall to darkness is the grand and glorious path of His intention, the Master of the shadows compulsions to hinder good and what is Holy will perpetually attempt to smolder my flame. 
Evidenced by the painful prints of spent fuel and carbon residue that he notoriously carries in his seductive courtship of the blinded masses he entertains. 
Identified by the lackluster definition he so gratuitously displays to them, causing humanity to be dispelled by the advantageously corrupt normalcies and governances we have been held in bondage under since the dawn of all civilized societies.
The Light I am only gives the lamp's escort the necessary changes in perspective to navigate any path affected by the ominous cover of storms or tired, determined nights teemed by studious observers of evil and plight desperately seeking respite. 
This Light only gives life to the once dying stagnant forms of creation willing to use it for their warmth and sight. Comfort and revelation. That is I. The Light I am.
Let not my gift of progress be squandered by this Master of shadows. For darkness has only the ability to occupy the given time and space of one who permits the absence of Light.