The Lasting Nightfall ...

It seemed like a carapace, the size of a pear,
A voice from within it prolonged his stare -
A voice that blubbered to him its plight,
Beseeched him to free it, free it that night,
When it'd be deeply dark, absent the moon,
It vowed to give the town a touch of the noon.
What he held filled his heart with delight,
So much for the Sun's owning all the light;
The best shows dazzled the centre of the market,
Nothing could better that night's, the boy bet.
He grew more eager as the dusk set in,
He could hardly wait to summon his jin,
But, aim for a grand audience, the voice did opine,
And at eight, he flicked the lever, awaited the shine;
Shadows grew large, and the sound cracked the walls,
In seconds, all light subsumed, many undeafened
By what, to them, was the most lasting of nightfalls,
The living left scarred, maimed and threatened
Now that trust and unity had been shattered,
Dispersed among the scores of corpses scattered.
Hate to one side, want of vengeance on the other,
Would either abate, or be kept from coming together?
What for long had been sealed in a shell, contained,
Had played the playful boy, and on his townsman rained.