Falling, shining, glowing, glittering, radiating...
so many acts were assigned the light.
And yet she did but one,
and not even that an action—
for she was naught but illumination.

One morning, upon seeing the glow filtered through a dirty window,
i was forced to confront the true extent of my poverty.

Yet she, who had nothing, was pure opulence.

in her whimsy
sometimes she was blinding

While i laid there exhausted,
the light continued to dance
—she simply never wearied.

Despite appearances,
the light never stands still

(and i only pretend to).

She doesn't awaken us;
she only reminds us
that we are already.

.
.

It was impossible for her to say goodbye.

the light flees
but never away
always towards

She was everywhere i looked,
ensuring that i was always aware
of my blindness.

those few who did not seek to restrain the light
could not hide their halo

while for the rest their own nimbus
obscured her

"Seek me," the light suggested.
"You will find that i even reveal my own nothingness."

"I am not living," she confessed. "Yet i am life."

While i... merely the walking dead.

some hear the song of silence
quieter still is the song of light
yet unlike silence the light
never stops singing

with but a gleam
she revealed
her infinite body

the curtains billowing
yet the light as placid as ever

In a quiet moment late one day i was sitting in her rosy embrace.
"My love is so pure that i don't feel a thing," she whispered.
"You, on the other hand..."

No matter how stealthy i am,
even peering through the tiniest crack
between the curtains,
she is always there.

even shadows fade
into the light

Nature is anything but blind.

"You must reach a point where receiving has become an offering as well."

Such was the lesson she taught my greedy self.

299,792 km/sec...  yet she remains impeccably still.

"The secret," she revealed, "is that I do not express anything — I only share."

Without betraying it, she even brought forth nothingness.

Once, while shoveling snow from the driveway, i complained about how my body ached.

"You do not live in a body," she corrected me. "You live as body."

While I lifted another heavy shovelful, she added: "I, on the other hand, am only ever myself."