The Light

light tunnel LENA

there is a hole in the world and the light is running out of it
shall we gather it in baskets?
try to collect the glints and flickers and save them
wrapped carefully in paper
for another day?
shall we pursue it, begging, worshiping
bringing wheat and vessels of wine and oil
naming it
placating it
fearing it
the light is running out
should there be judgment?
atonement?
the elders must decree…
must fasten thoughts into waiting minds
with hooks
and bind them in belief
the light is running
running
leaving darkness in its wake
but to see a candle flame you must be in a shadowed place
then you can begin again
to call the light
and carry it into the world

*artwork by LENA*
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About chimerapoet

I write. I write a lot. A. LOT. There are times I am half blind with a sentence ricocheting off the walls of my stupid, cant be shut off to save my life, brain. I am miserable until I get it down on paper. Punch it up a bit. Usually cross out half of it. And then breathe. Relax. Only to do it all again..... But I just thought that was me. How I am. Not a writer....noooo...not me. Writers are.....writing people. People Who Write. REALLY write. Write things that matter. All grown up very important things. Not.....me. I am just a scribbler of sorts. And I was/am content with that....if it's true, well then....a scribbler am I. Until the thought wormed its way in to my brain (the furtive sneaky bitch) that maybe...just maybe...that is writing. My style. My strange way. But....still writing. So here I am at the dance. Not sure I know any of the moves and the music is entirely mine. But.....only one way to find out. Would you care to join me?
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3 Responses to The Light

  1. Pingback: The Light | mood inflections

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