Eye lids open, peeled back
a fresh sheet
white as new-fallen snow.
A cold wind blows,
as the seasons turn with the page,
curtains are pulled back
to reveal..

* The Light *

In the beginning, there was Light.
Light stretched, in it's infinitecy, across the universe..
Splashing life through galaxies yet unformed...

On a longtail boat,
a monk journeys,
collecting alms
and a bit of rice..
Possessionless,
save a saffron robe
and a bowl..

Across a sand dune rides a sheikh,
camel-backed and draped in white,
in search for greener pastures..

Somewhere..
a mother is laying her child
into an early grave..

Basic desire spurs, raw
emotion chafes..
An onomatopoeia of
sorrow and pain..

And yet
the Light comes and goes,
all pervasive..
It sees all
and allows all to see.

Bask in its glory...

src

This is Part One of a stream of consciousness writing series. Part Two can be found here. Comments, critiques, opinions are welcome in the comments... I hope you are looking forward to the continuation of this series.

The Stream -- The Light [vol. 1]

* The Light *

Until Then...