You cannot pick up a patch of light
From the bed or the wall or the floor.
You cannot alter its path to the dark door.
Light is a mystery.
Does the sun give birth to light,
Or as the ancient poet sensed,
Is light the context for all Creation?
Light is a mystery.
How is light related to the gentle moon,
Or to the far, far star points,
Or the sudden stroke of lightning?
Light is a mystery.
You ask about fire and warmth,
From your new fireplace, or my old lamp,
Or the clever microwave oven?
Light is a mystery.
Then I wonder about colour,
The beauty of the wide high rainbow arch,
Or the minute refraction on our breakfast table?
Light is a mystery.
How is light involved in my seeing,
Or in our thinking, feeling or doing,
Throughout all the ages, in all lands?
Light is a mystery.
What are scientists today discovering,
And artists, doctors, engineers
In this vast expanding universe?
Light is a mystery.
How does light affect the flight of the robin,
Or of planes small and huge,
Or of the spaceship, its life and return?
Light is a mystery.
Is light essential for growing the violet small?
Even more for the pine tree tall?
And yes, for young Tommy next door?
Light is a mystery.
Light – Darkness – Light
Is Light the Mystery of all Mysteries?
~ Lois A Tupper
