Intense light subdivided
Into many lesser lights,
That’s what the wizard managed—
Others had already made
Greater and more brilliant light,
But couldn’t parcel the bits.
That’s what Tom Edison did—
Not inventing electric
Light but how to package it.
To this day, icons for bright
Ideas are little cartoons
Of clear glass bulbs, not pure light.
It’s possible what happened
With the packaging of light
Just paralleled early life,
Metabolism folding
Fully on itself only
Once packaged in walls of cells,
Ever since which, endlessly
Subdividing further cells.
For the light shed by language,
Information streams harnessed
In fresh thermodynamic
Cascades, something similar
Obtained—slip incandescent
Semes into the envelopes
Of narratives and behold,
God can say, Let there be light,
And then, over and over,
More gossiped stories by night.
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