it's the sad song of disappointment
exit sign becons with the room's only light
"come" it suggests "this way..."
let what comes next embrace you

ah, so you think i am Him. no, alas. good night to you. seems we are through.
tant pis for anonymity
and capitals Hims may be a blasphemous sin
to fancy a solicitous sugar bowl, and yet
a poet's imaginings would chase you off and so to bed
whatever the meaning it happens in our heads