En route to my bathroom,
in the middle of the night,
I pause, to stare at a soothing sight:
my living room glows, with soft, lambent light.
No mystery, no invisible forces;
this glow is created by three different sources.
A deluded victim of self-deception,
for years, I endured poor TV reception.
TV, I thought, was there to entertain
the masses, the “plebs”; those of little brain.
I saw myself, with self-regarding conceit,
as part of an intellectual elite.
Populist entertainment was not for me;
give me literature, high culture, and Radio 3.
The indoor aerial on my ancient TV,
I would move, and manipulate, constantly.
I finally gave way; put an end to all
the mounting frustration and mental turmoil.
Bought a decent TV, with outdoor aerial;
its cable connects to a socket in the wall.
This socket, in the darkest hours of the night,
sheds a small, sepulchral white light.
It suggests the serene light of sanity,
prevailing over years of conceit and vanity.
The second source of sublime white light
is symbolic of victory in another fight.
With my old router I could never get
a secure connection to the internet.
Flickering lights, in extensive array,
held me under hypnotic sway.
My new Wi-Fi Hub rescued me from this hell;
its single white light shows that all is now well.
And the Moon bestows its magisterial light,
in silver benediction, throughout the night.
This poem is really a compilation of three poems in one, and, as such, it took me ages to work out. It all stems from one of my visits to the bathroom in the middle of the night, when I couldn’t help noticing that my living room was bathed in spectral, white light.