Bared the light
remains
its own veil.

The light performed
her rituals
without a glance.

Wordless, the light writes itself.

Yet the light does not separate—
treating all equally,
it allows distinctions
while leaving whole.

Sorrow inevitably leads to darkness,
for nothing is further from the light than suffering.

We seek answers.
Yet what if the light is not an answer,
but rather pure question?

The light
has no need
of joy.