Be it. Light, persuading.
At a loss. To its heat.
Light loved as Christ was but lost.
I have a place, I have a house.
Here in the changing light each moment
We sit ‘white’ –
Still and different to ourselves
And more completely
than the last second taught to us.
Blinded, we see every day our death
And ask that man we passed
‘He reminded me he was a ghost,
He was alone and had no need of me.’
He bid me goodbye.
It is the unknowing I like first
And then as the sun sets
The thought of a ghost greater than
That began each spell and rhyme
That our friend seemed
To know whenever he passed.