Recently,
I have been pierced by the light that filters through the leaves

the shadows cast by sunbeams,

 

always shifting, never the same

as a second before.

Some edges sharp as a knife…

 

others barely legible, but somehow understood.

Maybe this is the space between

not quite an imprint, almost a memory.

 

Every pulse visible here,

in the shadows. Every moment held,

in the angle of light.

 

Dependent on that big fiery orb

far, far away… yet close enough

to burn.