I like the Light on the water.
I like the Light on the snow.
I like the Light in the hollow.
I like the Light through the fog.
I like the Light piercing cloudbanks.
I like the Light in the glade.
I like the Light komorebi in Spring.
I like the Light cafuné in late day.
I like the Light mångata in Arjuna’s April Auriga.
I like the Light yura yura in Winter’s darkness.
I like best the Light in her eyes.
I like best the Light from her skin.
I like best the Light in her walk.
I like best the Light in her laugh.
You can keep your candle, your Equinox.
You can keep your noon-light, your lamp.
You can keep your algal fluoresce, your Moon.
You can keep your star-glimmer, your wick.
I like best the Light, that finds her,
that falls to her, that bends from Source,
to her, to me. Her Light, I call it.
The only Light.
STARS I HAVE LOVED
No constellations above city haze,
No familiar groupings…all obscured.
Below, there are new groupings
New constellations - city offerings.
Police car comets, mosque moons :
Replacements for real life.
Orion, Gemini , Auriga gone.
Your stars twinkled. These don’t.
Supermarket, metro, gas stations,
Stare unrelentingly all night long.
The aurora is gone - the city took it.
City takes ; city gives back.
The city is god - at night.
As real stars fade with the dawn’s delight,
Fade too do these new stars,
As sun comes up with his daily daylight.
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