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The Light, a beckoning lighthouse, a Fresnellian force guiding forlorn forgotten followers through the fog.
The Light, a nascent sunrise, a promise of warmth when everything is cold and dark and your very exhalations curl before you. The Light, an illuming bulb, a design to share of oneself and banish miasmic myopia. The Light, an impelling laser, a keenly burning, ever-yearning dynamo burning through injustice and hate. The Light, winking starshine, a reminder that we are vast, that we extend beyond this marvelous marble, that this shared universe holds hope for us yet. May 2019 embrace you and yours in its glow.
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May 2020
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