On Illumination

The thoughts to which I alluded in my last post are still forthcoming. However, I recently wrote a multilayered poem of which I am rather proud and indeed a bit fond, so I thought I would share it.

Illumination

The light above the sink
Shines a pallid white
Casting a soulless gleam
Like an impersonal authority
Bidding me hush
Be quiet
Sit still
When I look in the mirror
The light bears over me
Inspecting
But quietly
In silent judgement
And by its sickly rays
I see a face
As drained of colour
As these white walls
Grey stone
Painted a semi-gloss white
These walls are dying
Breathing weakly
And gasping
Their last struggle
Illuminated by the hollow fluorescence
The putrid light
that sticks in my throat
Dry
And insufferable
Washing out colour
Like winter washes away autumn
Burying all
In cold sterility
And the light glares unmercifully
Creeping up my spine
If I try to look away
Even the shadows it casts
Are smothered ghosts
Wafts of smoke
That scream and die

I need the sun
I need it to shine
Shine
That its warmth
May fall all around me
Resting on my skin
And wrapping an arm around me
Like a brother
Offering comfort
Offering love
For the sun will stifle death
Piercing winter's shroud
And calling forth colour
Life
Sweeping away the remembrance of bondage
Of so many evils
To stand in the open air
In the sunlight
And feel the rebirth of the soul
As the sun gives us sight
Waking us from our empty dreams
Into truth
That withers our man made rays
And shows them for what they are
Fragile
Lifeless
A misrepresentation
Of what it attempts to imitate
Somewhere
We forgot
We lost track of what real lights are
And filled our lives with artificial meaning
Manufactured illumination
A light that is not white
But blank
And I call out for the sun