The night is stark
gone blind by the failure
of heaven's bulbs to ignite.
 
Nothing but a giant cataract
obliging an aperture the experience
of fulfilling the opposite
for which she was designed.
 
The usual landmarks fail,
as they fall without indication
the horizon has changed
in our sightless minds.
 
Our fingers braille the air
searching for something
familiar but touch has
followed suit.
 
We strain to hear,
dependent on sounds
for orientation.
 
Anxiety ushers fear,
without our senses
it makes no difference
what exists or does not.
 
The sky is an ornament
without magic to enlighten,
like Christmas with the fuse
blown from the colorful
display.
-James C. Allen