It was a gauzy, white light, the frosted fields
reflecting the early light shining through the flat
filter of low clouds. Depth meant less to the eye
in that light, near was far and far, near.
Light turns us as sure as reins and bit, it is a
twister of feelings, a shaper of thoughts, bender
of perception.
And so it was, ideas, feelings came to mind:
Neither heaven nor hell,
I'm here with no hope or promise,
Lost in this two-dimensional world
Of white light.
I was lost without the washing grace:
Limbo.
A babe alone, all alone in
Neither heaven nor hell.
Limbo is no more (if it ever was). But ideas,
once sown, seem to live forever, waiting for
the chance grow.
