THE SHAPE OF LIGHT

I like the taste of ultraviolet blue on my eyes,

the sky's twinkling ionic harvest,

any version of its splendour, in optic operatic sensoriums,

seething in soothing obscurity,

cascades of warmth a reaping,

worn along sometimes vertiginous paths.

Umber ground upturned by foot,

vermilion skies, turning cinnamon,

in cadences of elliptical light, churning charismatically,

into neon, emancipating the echoes

at the cusp of an evocative nebulosity,

the nascent night's twilight splendour.

I opt to know the world and grow its emergent systematicity,

in the comingling of hope and analogy,

an analycity of a necessary yearning breeds love.

In the soft embraces of chance courting possibility,

drawing upon the nullification of empty potential,

of grandiloquent denials,

twisting compromise manifest as necessity.

We are drawn like a chariot by wild horses,

in a substantive harvest's immaterial substances,

the colour of a pursuit,

comingling option with imagination,

the shape of light.

Poem and image © 2016 by Peter Kaleb Theodoropoulos aka Rockwell Wilder