Poetry, Nature, Questioning Existence
The Ephemerality of Light
A poem of reflection
Published in
2 min readJul 27, 2024
“The eye is the first circle; The horizon which it forms is the second; and throughout nature this primary figure is repeated without end.”
— Ralph Waldo Emerson
It changes so fast.
Blinding brightness. And then it’s gone.
And all you’re left with are reflections.
Shimmers. Memories fading into dust motes
and errant rays of sunlight. The source
is always there. Without it, would there be a
yesterday — or a tomorrow? A singularity?
A duality?
Two. You always need an “other” to perceive
the order of this world. Otherwise, we’re
always drawing circles around our own
miseries and ecstasies. Spinning our own wheels.
I saw the flash of today in the mirror tonight.
And she was there. The woman I used to be.
Just a moment ago.
