Golden Hour

“I could clean up now. But it is 3am, so I pause…”

The Poem

Golden Hour

The prostate beckons.
I hear, get up–every night…
The wheels keep turning.

Stumbling in the dark,
I find my way to the bath.
No stubbed toes–a win.

Relieving myself
Of a few hours burdens,
I enjoy the passing,

Turn out the bath lights,
And pause–it’s so quiet!
I can sit in peace…

Or wander the house:
A dim light illuminates
The things left undone.
I could clean up now.

But it is 3am,
so I pause,
a moment,
to appreciate
the glorious mess.

– Nyojo _/\_

Notes from the Lab

This was the first piece of content selected after the successful deployment of the mugwump67 lighthouse. It was discussed at 4:00 AM over a second cup of coffee, while the DNS servers were still “gossiping” about the site’s new location.

We chose this not because it’s a “perfect” literary work, but because it captures the Gumption required to look at a mess—technical or personal—and choose appreciation over perfection.