Light

There is a moment before day

when the world

f

o

r

g

e

t

s

her name—

then she arrives, not as thunder, but

as radiant

energy,

a whisper of warmth spilling through,

essential for vision

-

an energy

transfer,

a quiet pulse saying:

become.

The air feels lucid,

my thoughts

i

l

l

u

m

i

n

a

t

e

their own corners,

and I see not what is, but what she

might be -in

that tender flood of myself something inside

me stirs—

call it enlightenment,

or call it the soul

turning toward its source,

I love her.