In The Light
they say Keira walked through a night that bent,
a moment that found her,
a light that chose her —
and this is how the story is told…
light between shadow tricks,
hides what we all miss,
a never-ending thought in the Styx,
rivers and bricks —
static bends into a shape,
asking if I still exist,
am I me or something else,
a question made of hiss —
spinning slow around my head,
a pulse I can’t dismiss,
is it god or just a glitch,
friend or foe or abyss —
missing pieces of sleep,
I drift from night to sunlight,
red eye, orange sky,
fire in the east blows over the town —
green grass crunching under my feet,
out early on the street,
I need to see something in the way the sun rises,
how it pours over the earth,
regardless of class or systems at work,
spreading out the light —
can it carry us through the lonely night,
can it make the strange feel right,
was my grief so great I generated a scene,
colourful, wild, contained in the mind —
or was it outside of me,
something with its own design,
its own pulse,
its own mind —
honey-sweet pour over Goldridge Avenue,
light hits the factory just right,
bounces off the corners of the steel,
over George Street, and Peel —
it isn’t so far to return,
when everything slows down,
and you can release the moment
back into the flow —
step out of the dream,
let the morning take hold,
feel the current pull you forward,
back to the world you know.
oh moment hard in the night,
turn to refrain in the light,
remembering where we all have been,
in the light, in the light —
stand by in the light,
waiting for the black to shade and wave
from purple to pink,
white even when you look straight at it —
oh moment hard in the night,
turn to refrain in the light,
we return to where we’ve always been,
in the light, in the light.
oh moment breaking the night,
fold into gold in the light,
every shadow loosens where it’s been,
in the light, in the light —
walking along the light,
bent around the night,
waiting for the dark to fade and shake
from purple to pink,
white and then it’s bright —
oh moment breaking the night,
turn to refrain in the light,
we remember where we’ve always been,
in the light, in the light.
scattered dances of reflection,
light on the wall,
cascading along my ecstatic face —
I am part of the flow,
the current,
the undertow —
I can feel it,
the pulse,
the vibration,
the foo fighters flight —
return, return,
you were there one night,
a dream,
a dream along the lines of sight.
starlings in the sky,
shape what you want to say,
I can read you now,
if I may —
patterns in the morning light,
echo what I saw that night,
veils lifting in the quiet grey,
something speaking in its own way —
walking along the light,
in the light, in the light,
bent around the night,
we free our wings tonight —
into the sky,
up high, up high,
purple sky to pink,
white and then it’s bright —
starlings wheel and sway,
I can read you now,
if I may.
and so the legend says:
Keira saw the shape,
walked into the dawn,
and carried the light with her —
a witness to the unseen,
a seeker marked by morning.
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