I mean no matter what you believe about Alien abductions And or religious experiences And or psychedelic channelings And or immersive gaming And or magic and witchcraft Revival tent hucksterism, Myers-Briggs psychobabble, Or Hank Williams singing with the conviction of a man Who had seen the light. No matter what you think about it all, It's your rigorous intuition that tells your Tell-tale heart at the end of the day, At the twilight between dusk and dawn, you Have got to ask yourself a question about it. What light? A blinding light. One of those rare and purposeful beams of light that We are told strikes certain individuals At key moments in their lives. Tesla as a child in the Balkans, Phillip K. Dick in Fullerton, Bob Dylan in his bedroom in Malibu, Merle Haggard in a small plane over Point Conception, Joan of Arc's blinding visions, Saint Catherine receiving the stigmata From a dense beam of otherworldly yellow Color