The Colour of Light
By onemorething
- 598 reads
Light is as fragile as glass,
snake-charmed to ascend
in undulations from the shadow
of night. And yet, the sun
is not the face of any god,
even if it seems to
have its own restless divinity,
where photons are spun
with the same features as faith.
Viewed through a prism,
what was pregnant
with the energy of tone and shade,
is transformed to waves
of visible frequency, caught
in a butterfly net. Perhaps
darkness feels safer -
we are tempted by its secrecy,
lured to ignorance wrought
by absence; a well of pitch
that will not be lit by any star
or lifeless, lunar sister.
And we can become accustomed
to a distance from illumination,
until we forget the sensation
of words, the shape of space,
the ripples of radiation
that create the nature
of everything, and that everything
is the colour of light.
Image is a painting called Day by E R Hughes. Another ekphrastic poem because I am working my way through my favourite paintings of his. https://commons.m.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Day.jpg
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Comments
"lifeless, lunar sister". No
"lifeless, lunar sister". No divinity in light, I guess. Just gorgeous.
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Very meaningful. An enjoyable
Very meaningful. An enjoyable read.
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