sometimes i forget about my fascination with the light source. the sun of my time shines bright of course, but in some way, it may fade. all the basking in the night lights shade, looking for a force to flip on. a switch to flick up, maybe a breaker to break down. there's a terminal connection to this source of power. from point A to point B, i can see caustic cables cloaking transformers, trying to disguise their size. shockingly, there's more to what meets the eyes. feel the new form transfer with a slip and zip through time. work down the wires current until you reappear inspired, rewired with a sparked charge. the old age question is, how long can you hold it?