A glimmer breaks through the clouds,
A single beam of white light drifts
through the skylight above
As I lay with back to carpet,
watching the fan lazily rotate.

The fan wobbles and creaks,
it’s paint chipped and weary.
Chains dangle below, rattling
And the blades blur in rotation.

I do not blame the ones of before
for seeing a single hopeful beam of light
and dropping to their knees in prayer,
tears dripping down in the face of
a savior, any savior.

The layers behind eyes flitting with
joy, eyes that dart about, drinking in the scene
to that of unseeing blank, wide mouthed
as if in awe of the world above,
stuck in their ways for eternity.