Belated

This feels like an anniversary poem. Although that is not how it began--much like relationships I suppose.

The Nature of Light

I wash my face with it

Cup it like water in my hands

Stars and worlds slip through my fingers

No way to hold them

But the stories linger

Of birth and death

Of heaven and hell

What do I remember?

Just you

Walking into a room long ago

And staying

It is the nature of light