With no guiding light it may very well be my tomb.
Peering intently into the nothingness, the absence of light,
Terror strikes me; I panic; I fill with fright.
Confused and paralyzed whilst facing a caliginous Medusa
Sadness fills my heart like the mother from Thing v. La Chusa.
In my stillness, I ponder my unpropitious lot
I must go on, Calamity will greet me not!
I grope the walls and floors of undifferentiated sable
Effortlessly navigating the darkness (except for bumping my shin on the coffee table).
I reach the cabinet imprisoning that for which I strive
A fresh light bulb of watts seventy-five.
