All light, coming back to me, coming back to you.
I’ve heard that the offering of light to one, becomes the offering of light to another; it reflects, refracts. Light comes to me; I refract that, in the prism of my being, and it becomes another; it’s found by an other.
In doing good things, things of light and beauty, these go one way, come back to others, come back in differing forms to me.
Looking at the Moon, in contemplation, I’m thinking about that. The reflections. And I’m looking at her in the old snag, that’s between the two of us. And she drifts there, reflecting the sunlight, beaming — and sending light; that’s her refraction. It’s a new light.
Still, it’s luminous, the banded rays she sends my way, from another Sun, millions of miles, refracted — quiet now in eveningtime. The gloaming.
That snag, in its curling, branched expressions of her time in living — balance the whitened pearl that Moon is — and there’s a symbolism there. Light refracting, in our time of living, passing balanced in the labyrinth of our experience, wrapped in what has been, cradled in the past, moving on — future bound.
Light comes, light goes. Light reflects, light refracts.
And in every thing, you see some thing new.
Wishing well, in every thing —
TSG | d e c a t u r i s l a n d