Lit spaces as putative safe havens?

Perhaps.

But, it does behoove to think of lumen’s absence as a possible place for peace as well.

Fatuous would be one who thinks it impossible to feel darkness in the glow.

Just as a fontlet may, in time, turn into a river’s rushing roar, a flicker may be the spark that ignites a fiery clash.

Window’s skin may be thin or thick, but an esthesiometer cannot determine the sensitivity of the souls within the pick.

See, behind that black could be whispered memories between besties replete with bonhomie.

And, on the other side of bright’s door could be not pals playing penny poker, but unlovers scarring self-worths.

So, knock with a cautious optimism on every entrance met—for preservation proffers ops to change, learn, and go-let. ; )