WHAT I MEAN WHEN I SAY 'LIGHT'
When I tell you that you are Light, what I mean is not this ray of moon stuff, or a golden kiss on green Summer leaves.
I do not mean what pours over roses, anointing them with the blood of the afternoon, or a passionate chorus of atoms in the carillon of molecules.
I do not mean the ancient caress of stars on your retina, their wine taste spilling down your optic nerve into the hidden chalice behind your face.
I mean the Light inside light, I mean the rustle of bright darkness, I mean this edgeless wave of awakening, the tremor of emptiness, the spasm of gravity curling unboundedness into an electron.
I mean the blossoming of the void into a golden flower.
I mean your infinitesimal joy, tingling through the brilliance of bewildered flesh at the slightest touch of my love.
There is a current of water in the sea, my dear, a river of wind in the sky, a spiraling of crystal in the stillness of a stone.
There is a trumpet of whiteness in the twisting silence of a lily's seed, a diamond Goddess undulating up your spine the instant you repose most dark and hollow.
Just so, dear one, what I mean by Light cannot be seen by looking.
Let webs un-weave. Let gazes return to the gazer.
Meet me here, where your Radiance and my Radiance have the same birth.
by Fred LaMotte on Facebook