Reaching back into the past to find that switch that got flipped you walk through many rooms
feeling around every doorway trying to toggle every bump on the walls
Some are switches Some shed light Some blind you Others plunge you into darkness
Most if they work at all flicker like an old seizure-inducing fluorescent tube
Yet you know at the back of your mental mansion perhaps dingy and blocked by thick curtains you will find a great pane
The window where your sunlight shines in
