The Light Quartet
I
Light, Emboldened Mystic,
Impetuous imp, Progenitor of sight,
Sun of my soul, lie with me,
In time’s forever world.
II
Yesterday the sky was marked
By a winged shadow, and the sun
was thrown in confusion.
III
The open window is no solace
To a wilting bud, for whom light,
is another sign of providence.
IV
Is it the enlightened moment of recognition
That I seek when you utter your thoughts,
Or the darkness of the tongue that utters them?
