The True Light

what a sad light it is
that cuts through this
White darkness,
razor sharp
like feathers.

(in this world, even the wind is bladed.)

emitted from a cold sun
it bears no freedom—
not like this silent night
seen through a hand mirror,
behind the souled mask of
limitless limitation.

the false light dissipates
as a new, true light
pierces through this
camouflaged abyss, this
darkness dyed white.

(there is a journey that must begin.)

the more painfully
things are learned,
the more the feathers
once again become soft—
timeless—
floating in white
eternally.

(what in this world is worth saving?)

on the other side
of this crumbling facade,
despair and hope
share the same face.
unsatisfied, the heart seeks
The End, the prologue to
a new beginning.