On the Flicking of a Switch

The switch flicks - and in that moment everything changes. The flicking switch rearranges everything; what was important is suddenly unimportant. Priorities re-prioritised. Problems of great magnitude minimised by the flicking of that switch. The world is magnified and suddenly a tiny usually trivilaised thing takes on a wonder never seen before; I watched that tiny ladybird for an hour climbing a fox-glove stem and silently cheered as it reached the top. I watched as, drop by drop, the rain fell, snaking its way down the window pane and my own pain fell drip by aching drip as it made a pool in the chasm of my heart. I mustn't fall apart they say; stay strong, think only positive thoughts. I'm thinking that I can't think beyond today. I'm thinking that something has started eating me away. Is that negative or just realistic? Someone flicked that switch you see and I cannot see in the darkness. I peer through the gloom looking for a light; but the switch flicked - and in that moment everything changed. The flicking switch blacks out everything.