In praise of light pollution: a Spenserian sonnet

I stalked the lamplit streets the other night
Alone in silence, searching all around
For somewhere blessed with perfect-balanced light
To safely rest on clean unbroken ground
(Ideally free from automotive sound
Disrupting my most pure experience);
And there I lay my body back and drowned
My mind and soul with all-consuming sense;
And idly pondered, in that immanence
What message there could possibly have been
To see that sky; and wondered what expense
We paid to blot out all the stars therein,
That I might see as never seen before
A universe of blue and nothing more.

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