You single sun slung photon
Fractured by a solitary tear of dawn
That holds to razor tipped
Blade of grass, its head bowed,
Perhaps in prayer,
Clinging like a spirit might
To its corporeal home,
Not needed now.
Your colored sheets of shards
Strike the smoky lens
Of my unclean eye,
Calling to spread your wings
Upon my sashed and shuttered window.
You particle of light,
Do not give up so soon on me!
I may yet taste your wave-like gown,
And use it as a solar sail
To catch the maker's breath
Upon the quantum sea.
Stuart Dummit
Copyright ©2002 Stuart E. Dummit
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