Solar Storm

 

It is difficult for God
to let there be light
without your eyes.
That glory is the work
of your body.
Now get busy burning
yourself to ashes.
Didn’t you know?
Each photon in your finger bone
is the whole sun.
This very thought
sizzles on the tip of a dendrite
condensing a thousand
galaxies into an amethyst 
of wonder.
It is not enough
to enlighten your mind.
Your flesh must crackle
like a wickless flame.
A wild one needs
nakedness and victory,
a tempest to ride backward 
into heart-beaten stillness.
Don't try to understand.
Just be a solar storm
arriving at midnight.

Art: Sophia Robyn