The Bulb
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I look upon the ceiling.
Shining bright, the burn makes light.
The power flashing through the wire
Assumes the right
To give us sight.
To see when otherwise we wouldn?t;
Viewing things we couldn?t in the darkness,
Yet oftentimes the bulb grows dim;
It blinks and fades away,
And so not seeing where we go
We roll and slide astray.
The flashlight of existence
Does not show it all.
Only true enlightenment
Will help us see the call,
So find yourself
To find a bulb,
And switch the old with new,
So as to illuminate
To fix what is aSkEw.
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© David, 2001-01-04
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Comments
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This is a poem I wrote that was accepted for publication in Into the Sun, released in 1999, by Poetry.com.
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