A light bulb I received for free
eleven years ago, as part of an energy
conservation movement regarding
Florescent (CFL) use, burned out last night.
There’s nothing monumental about that.
It flickered for a bit and finally went out.
It was just a bulb I got for free, signifying
It was just a bulb. In a lamp. In my living room.
A room littered with memories, of loving,
losing and leaving. Mixed with laughs,
lethargy and passing moments of loathing.
The bulb, nothing more really, shined over
discussions of love, anger, joy, nonsense,
intimacy, loneliness, desperation, elation,
and numerous moments of embarrassment.
Eleven years of the same bulb, just a bulb,
performing its function without judgment,
consciousness, nostalgia, or regret. It is just
a thing. Just another thing in a room.
A light in the dark is all it was. Just another light
in a long line of bulbs replaced over and over
since the first light bulb was lit by Mr. Edison,
just another bulb.
Bulb technology has probably advanced immensely
in eleven years and the new bulb will possibly last
even longer. The next bulb might survive into my
fifties, maybe my sixties.
It’s just a bulb after all. What could it possibly
illuminate at this point that could be considered
ground breaking, or Earth shattering, or mildly
amusing. It’s just a bulb.