The Busted Lightbulb Poem by Samuel Stuart Pennell

It was like when I was young, and my mother would screw in a lightbulb after an old one had just busted. It had popped and flared and fizzled; it had rattled out. A scary surprise, then quiet darkness. A childish scream, dark silence. Quietness too quiet/darkness too dark. Unnatural. For a moment there was darkness, but then there was illumination. It was too bright, like the sun. The sun in the night. The sun had risen, and it was God-bright. It was uncomfortable, like Hiroshima lighting up the night sky. It was unnatural to see such brightness at night. It was like the sun in the night. The dark in the night, the light in the night. The light in the dark in the light in the night. It was like God shining in the night. Human beings were not meant to live this way, night was supposed to be dark. And darkness is black. Sun black goddess. Things were bright. Too bright. All along the watchtower, far too dark, then too bright.

Godblessyou amen