Electricitylight bulb

By Austin Jepson

Sept 27, 2018


At the end of the day,

Darkness settles in.

Rustic cabins are dimly lit

By small flames.


Tales are told,

Meals are had,

Beds are made

And the people crawl in.


Power surges over lines,

And one by one,

The circuits connect.


TVs come on,

Sound systems blare,

People get ready

To go out on the town.


Workers start shifts,

Products are built,

Factories hum.

No lost time.


Houses across the land

Turn on switches

And in an instant,

The day continues on.


When did that become

Part of God’s design?

In the beginning, God created

The day and the night.


Maybe our bodies were built

For darkness

As much as light,


For rest,

As much as work,


For quiet,

As much as noise.


Maybe we need to just

Turn off the day.

Maybe we need to

Embrace more the night.

About author

Austin Jepson

I am a non-verbal boy with autism. I was adopted by the Jepsons at age seven. Prior to that, I lived in foster care for 2 years. My original family could not take very proper care of me and I was taken from their home. My memories of them are still alive, though, and I love them, even though they had problems. My life now is better. My mom and dad love me and so do my brothers. I am lucky for that. As I am planning on going to college some day, writing in this blog is great practice. I hope you like it. Maybe you will learn something about autism. I hope so.

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  1. REPLY

    Laraine Hoff says

    That was inspired. What a very special young man you are. Thank you…please keep writing!

  2. REPLY

    Bonita Klingler says

    It is most enjoyable to read your deep thoughts about life. We might all do better to slow down and reflect on your ideas. Thanks for sharing.

  3. REPLY

    Janet Lee Wise says

    Dear Austin: I love electricity, and I love your poem about it. As a psychologist I can promise you (because I am guilty of it myself) that most of us get side-tracked from temporal and spiritual progression because of things that seem more “urgent” and are more “fun” to do. Do I hear in your voice some self-criticism? Believe that Heavenly Father knows you and loves you just the way you are. The son of our Bishop has autism. When I was the Music Director in our ward, he would wave his arms around–like me–and vocalize. I always loved it, because I knew he was truly worshiping the Lord with me. His dad didn’t like it though. He thought Sacrament Meeting should be more “reverent.” I guess some people don’t know what “worship” looks like. But his son reached out to me when I was released–reached out his hand to me and took mine as I walked down from the stand for the last time. That meant so much more to me that all the cards and “thank yous” I got from members who could talk and sing. You can share your light, without having to verbalize a thing. I am so glad I found your page.

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