Say what you will of light,

light has a will of its own,
travels at its single speed,
defines the limits of time
and relentlessly calls up
the obvious to enlighten.

Light pierces even the crevasses 
in icey vaults of frozen souls,
repeats itself in mirrors,
splinters in the purity of prisms
which shatter it to wavelengths
to sound the vibrating brilliance of the world
while simultaneously, in shadow,
entices and ends the lives of mothmen.

It remains the true mother of visions
and is faintest in the minds
of the willfully blind