The Impersonator Poem by first comet

Divided by a fine line to the left and right,
Right and wrong; caught in a fierce fight,
Fight to the end of time; the time was tight,
Tight and tense, in his fist he held the light,

Light in hand, he marched like a knight,
Knight he might, but on the side of the night,
Night, confused, when the devil is your guide,
Night, the imposer of the eternal plight,

Plight, the pestilent snare, hard to decide,
Decide to resist and to endure or to abide,
Abide by the rules or to sail against the tide,
Tide so wide, hopeless to ride or to push aside

The night had changed the rules of the fight:
Right was wrong; his mission was to hide,
To hide, the secrete collusion of the night!
to continue...