these uncut books of light

in this library
of sky
we breathe in
blue
the shining oblong tomes
of reflective
glass
are the uncut books
of light
there
for the eye’s
receptors
to read,
pressed pages
of first origin
we might find
a tale
of the mind
emerged from
the
dark matter
of meaninglessness
to stand
beneath the closest
star
and make metaphor
in the unfolding
story
of this universe
and how it converses
with itself
in the grammar
of photons
scribing
today
the glory
of warmth
on your reddening cheek
turning
all our heads
towards the sun’s
light-well
that writes us
into life,
into living.