The light drifts gently through the pane,
Settling down, then out again
To touch some other soul abroad
Or perhaps return to God.
Neither you nor I can tell
From where it came or where it fell,
Yet for certain can be known,
That light has never been alone.
Traveling with it near and far
From Roman roads and distant stars
To city streets and jungles dense,
Light has always spirited
The shadow and her softened tread
Has long evoked a whispered sense
Of closeness with another world
Where Charon ferries sleeping hordes
Across the Styx and on to rest
For many a weak and weary breast.
Just as light reminds of death,
So it shows in every breath,
Illuminating signs of life
And freedom in the rite of strife
Of soldiers glistening in the field
Or off the weapons that they wield.
The gleam of light can still be seen
On faces of the young and lean
And in the eyes of those who've toiled,
Those shoving off this mortal coil
Can still be seen a twinkling beam
Of light and its vivacity.
17 December 2008