Why can’t it be light I’d
like it to be light not
light like that light
coming in the window warm
morning at last but light
like a billowing unseen
without any sail
In response to an entry from the Morning Porch.
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Oh, my, Luisa! This one takes my breath away.
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Rosemary, thank you. That means so much to me.
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LIGHT IN SO MANY MORE WORDS
Is it the light that breaks through “yonder window”?
(It is “the light through yonder window breaks”).
Is it the sunrise? Is it the setting colours of the sun?
Is it the light at the end of the tunnel? Is it the light
of an indescribably lonely but caressing soft light?
Love, life, living, leaving, lost in the Light’s embrace:
Is it any of these lights, in so many more words, you crave?
Or are these lights too light to light your lightened light?