Light's patterns freeze:
Frost on our faces.
Light's pollen sifts
Through the lids of our eyes…
Light sinks and rusts
In water; is broken
By glass… rests
On deserted dust.
Light lies like torn
Paper in corners:
A rock-pool's pledge
Of the sea's return.
Light, wrenched at the edges
By wind, looks down
At itself in wrinkled
Mirrors from bridges.
Light thinly unweaves
Itself through darkness
Like foam's unknotting
Strings in waves…
Now light is again
Accumulated
Swords against us…
Now it is gone.
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There is a calming effect in this piece I feel, but, at the same apparent time, I feel there is a haunting feel as well. I don't know, I read it aloud and that's the impression I got.
I didn't like the first line too much because of all the words mainly ending in 's' I found that to be somewhat cliche and unnerving.
But, in an overall feel of the piece, I like it. There's just something about it, that holds a similarity in life that I feel I can connect with and I am sure others as well.
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