About Light

[smokingboot]

When I was a child I ate light.
Shapes in the air around me said
You could do anything with it.
You could wear light like a coat.
You could slip in and out of it,
You could eat it, drink it,
Wrap it around yourself
And you'd be thin but very well,
You would learn to fly, or jump
Through skyholes to other places.
But, they warned, you lose it,
Growing into a body.
And you won’t see the way you did
Like a jackal under stars
You'll feel the weight, and not recall
How to balance the moon on your fingers
How to ride the air above wave spray
Until the music changes,
When you’ll find again it's so easy,
Lighter than a moth,
Than the promise of a human,
Sunrise, the mountains, and the waiting sky.