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Light
It is just light
from a cosmic lightbulb,
with an inbuilt, failsafe timer.
Yet every eye, armed with sight
sees it differently.
Others don't notice it,
a permanent fixture,
taken for granted.
The unseeing eyes feel it.
Some find its touch cooling
of various thread count cotton,
or sense a cocoon of satin sheets,
Others find it a scratchy coarse wool,
too hot and uncomfortable, giving them rashes.
Light, for blinded eyes, is a sensation.
Darkness, dressed in black cannot deny them waves to float upon,
a shower to stand under, whiplashes of storms to weather,
a waterfall they never shall see, only hear its roar,
dewdrops to caress the soles of tired feet.
I wish I could choose darkness
to not see, but only sense,
the heartbeat of a day
so bright, it blinds.
***
The tropical summer is killing me, but the grudging early morning walk offered me this sight. I've never really captured sunbeams before, so I am rather proud of this photograph, even if it cost me a sleep-deprived day at work.
