Water was her favourite companion; they never seemed to tire of playing and dancing together.

Envious, i sought my own fluidity. Heedless that one day i, too, would evaporate.

Some attempted to calculate light in various ways. Did they not know, in their heart of hearts, that she was immeasurable?

She knew no before.

Sometimes the light
can only be
found in darkness.

All was still,
except for the curtains
which breathe with the light.

Even the darkness
has a sheen.

The light didn't need to reveal
anything other than itself.

"I am never lost," she asserted.
While we, on the other hand, can never find ourselves
— not even in the light.

She is relentless.

Though i don't like to think that our relationship is so one-sided, i have to admit that it is always she who comes to me.

She shone,
even in oblivion.

Her generosity was simply boundless — she would share, without restraint, every single thing that she came into contact with.

Far too often we confuse existing with being perceived.

Stepping outside one December afternoon i was surprised at how early it had gotten dark. "I prefer it," the light confessed. "The less distracted you are by what you see, the more quality time we get to spend together." Pausing on the front porch i had to admit it was true:  i lost sight of her far too easily just by seeing.

Ambient,
like us.

While driving down the highway i glanced at the odometer and muttered something about how far i still had to go. The light playfully glinted on the windshield. "I am always here," she teased, "in this nowhere where."

The most difficult thing to accept?  Her perfection.

Sometimes it would only take a glimmer...