There we were as fools,
stumbling and groping in the darkness
without sight and
full of a false sense of direction
Searching blindly for a sense of comfort
in identity,
that switch which eludes
our fumbling fingers
Desperately grasping patches
of cold hard wall
in pursuit of the change
that will show us the way
My fingers graze the switch
and slide down the wall
and the bulb flickers...