Stripped of the superstructures of flesh.
All light is unseen until some substance
Throws it back into our faces.
Some light, even in reflection,
Passes through us.
The eye and it’s mind are ignorant.
Small mutations of energy
Change the nature of being
While immutable bone creaks
Under the weight of the living.
Why should we look, as we do,
Through what shape we possess,
Into its scaffolding of support;
Or even, between, into pulsing organs
Which have no words for us?
Soul and spirit are another light,
Energy on the spectrum somewhere,
Reflected or refracted just the same
By what we believe to be real.
The mind and it’s eyes are ignorant.
The invisible shapes the visible:
Other energies warp around us
And show us the bones of the world,
The ligatures of earth and heaven.
But blood, like light, is shed, wounds picked over:
We tear ourselves apart to look beneath the skin.
© BH 2011
Another one for the Web Cycle (no, not pedal-powered cyberspace). Andrew McCallum Crawford kindly put it on his blog at http://andrewmccallumcrawford.blogspot.com/. If you're interested, the Web Cycle (dating back to 1996) is here. It was finally completed in 2014. Bit of a marathon but, hey, what's new?
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