Prism

Be the drop a sliver of moon
lathes rainbows through.
Your task is transparency,
your vocation effortless
as a jagged prism.
Let what pierces you
splinter its bright desire
in your crystal stillness,
pouring out mountains, forests,
clouds, unfolding roots
into mosaic skies, rolling golden
carpets of quivering wheat
for restless hooves and raptor eyes
to glint and thunder on.
Let owl and panther hunt
in your wild starless silences.
Become the dark energy that gods
don't even know they use
to propagate waves of what Is
from the sea of what is Not.


Photo by Aile Shebar