On your next midnight stroll, be enlightened by the tangy spectrum of unnatural, neon-tungsten glows. Don't recalibrate. Look up! As you see the flora fluoresce, know that you are no different than the trees beneath the light. The guard between "nature" and "culture", between "out there" and "in here" not only ceases to exist but also reveals itself as an expired artifact—the boring metaphor of perceiver and perceived. We have the light to thank. Electron theatrics, as real as they are merely abuzz, dictate reality—we are dependent on the light. As well, we are incapable of owning up to our authority over reality. The dynamic between perceiver and perceived is a narrative introduction that surrenders to poetic union. We are no different from the trees. While a duality is exposed, a true singularity is revealed—a virtuous conflation, of "subject" and "object".