Advent Light

Skye Moon

Silver beams pierce the night like arrows in flight.
It is not dark –
there not an absence of light,
only a surfeit of perception.

A glow travelling through time,
through space.
Dusting the earth.
Lighting on the ordinary,
the every day,

Wet washing lines become midnight diamond necklaces,
damp roofs sheets of polished gold,
cresting waves are dressed with strings of glistening pearls
while gentle halos bedeck those the light rests upon.

In the light,
by the light,
focus falls on other things, the light itself all to quickly overlooked
unobserved as it draws our observations to other things.

Making all things touched by it the most precious of all.


This entry was posted in poems and tagged , by Kirstin. Bookmark the permalink.

About Kirstin

I have been working in the Scottish Episcopal Church since aged 13 when I used to type up the hand written minutes of the Church we worshipped at. Having always had a vocation - yes the story about me burying a toy rabbit which had lost its ear are true - but never thought it would amount to anything because I happen to be female. Ever since I finally accepted that God was calling me despite the fact I was a woman. The Holy Spirit has spent half the time propping me up and the other half swiping the rug from under me so I don't get too comfortable.

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