Neon yellow
Shone once from him,
Bathing those nearby in
Bright light.
I suppose it stopped
Because it was artificial.
Bold, powerful, hurting the eyes so much
That it could only be man-made.
For a while, his lights all turned off,
The bulb no longer fed.
No light whatsoever,
No luminescence.
He could no longer feed the artificial light,
And had no sun otherwise.
He was in the dark, not seeing his Earth.
But one day,
One lonely day,
He saw something on his horizon.
Something soft.
Feeling his way,
Picking his path,
He crawled to it.
He reached it.
A small ball
Of light,
Buttery yellow.
Not like the previous shade.
He tried to scare it away,
For he had grown used to the dark
And didn't want false hope.
But the ball kept coming back.
Kept popping back up,
Reaching to him,
Trying to touch him,
Trying to connect.
All the while getting brighter.
Until one day,
One dark day,
He sat in his corner,
And a spot of heat touched his back.
Warmth he hadn't known in
Himself.
Heat like that of a lover's touch,
That raced through him.
Turning,
He saw the sphere of light,
Now as large as him.
Lighting up the dark.
Yellow, like a sunset,
Like a flower petal,
Like a vein of gold,
Like a strand of blonde hair.
Light he couldn't resist touching.
It consumed him on contact,
Coursing through his veins
And over his Earth.
That light became him.
He finally saw his world,
Finally saw his fields,
Flowers,
Animals,
People.
Before, the artificial had only
Lit up a small room.
Now, he could see
Everything.
He could see himself at last.
