This light I speak of, isn’t.
It’s more a weightlessness than photons
It can be felt in the eyes,
If they are lightly closed,
But not so much seen,
That’s just a trap of language.
This light, it is felt.

For the prompt at Imaginary Garden, and open link night at dVerse

40 thoughts on “Woolens

      1. We knit woollens and the light also knits and combines. This world is woven or knitted in ways not seen. That is what I saw in your poem. It is an ancient teaching, the spinners weaving and knitting this world into being. Light made manifest as the material. The woven fabric we inhabit.

        Liked by 1 person

  1. Language walks a wilderness of ghosts, ever defining and clarifying what only further mystifies. “This light, it is felt” has so many meanings, like ripples from a stone dropped in a pond. Strong response to the challenge.

    Liked by 1 person

    1. Thanks frank, alway appreciate your viewpoint. I think I fell into my own trap with the title! I recall being quite amused by it, but now I think I’m pulling that wool over my own eyes. Ah, what will I see then? Lol!

      Liked by 1 person

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