Light knocks skyward...the world opens
unto itself.
One immense illumination felled--
despite ourselves we find shadows
outstretched...rationed eclipses to
ground.
The light of the world secreted...
becoming ominous upon thee.
Motioning, as if haling the soul's
transport...the living seem untimely.
As an arm raised to the wind to better
feel of it, discern direction--a handful of will.
We pull one another from moments...
and in that pulling agree that time has
passed.
We wear a mind of welcome--to make
our way through what's forbidding.
Light knocks skyward...the world opens
unto itself--we were meant to move and
be moved by its embedded cognizance.
Till love has become of us, and the light
of the world we are...undone.
For that which knocks must be answered.