I sang of holy words which held great meaning
That Anguished Truth was not my truth at all
A windshield caked with mud in need of cleaning
‘To See, or Not to See?’ the questioned call.
Unlike the tortured Dane with “this or that?”
I now find options grow by leaps and bounds
Enlarge the heart and mind their habitat
And take in all the new world’s sights and sounds
But not a new world – just the choice to see
‘Tis been here all along, before my face
When given option One or Two – try Three
And find you’ve locked yourself inside that space
We beg the On or Off switch – “Give us light”
Most bulbs now dimmable will set aright.