the waiting light

The light o’er the ridge

stood

near still, waiting

to ascertain dawn

fully in place.

 

Suspended,

it cast down both slopes;

wanderers

on each

still finding their way.

 

Rivers and streams

pummeled their way

echo…echo…

echoing still.

The light did not abandon its care-filled watch.

 

Ponder the light:

all seems so clear, in the visibility.

Now that it is day. This day…

Did not the stream change its course?

Who would know?

 

But in the night, that other light

cast its beam on some

yet unknown, unseen

fragile beauty.

 

Fragile;

for it is difficult

to navigate the terrors of the night

or the cold. It is near impossible

e’en to wait.

 

Wait in the darkness…are you mad?

Hold, my breath. Hold…and wait

for a prayer to breathe itself.

 

There is beauty hiding there, holding also its breath;

I am certain of it.

Just as I am certain we would all come to harm

to wander aimless, unguarded in the darkness.

Or racing unhinged… worse still.

 

Unhinge my fear…

and bring the light.

                                                                                                                                                                                                jfig/2/2017

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

                                                                                                            

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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