There once was a beautiful light,
Sent down from the greatest of heights.
Those below saw it all,
And they sniffed and guffawed!
But the light was still burning and bright.
This gift that was sent from above,
In kindness and gentlest love –
And they giggled and scorned,
At the colors unborn –
And gave it a slap with their glove.
But the light still remained as before,
And waited for years at their door –
While they drank and they played,
And they sang night and day
In the City Of Brotherly War.
Then they stole a small spark from the light,
And carried it off to the night.
Their theft was a curse,
Which brought illness and worse –
And that was the end of their might.
The light still remains in its place,
Waiting eons in mercy and grace –
To bestow the divine
Gift of Spirit and Mind
And the strength of a soul who is chaste.
It takes many faces and forms –
The average and out of the norm –
And you never will see
Where it is or will be,
It finds you, and with time, you’re reborn.
But – when temptation then comes into sight,
And all impulses beg to take flight –
Make a space in your mind
For that not-distant time
And the story of Beautiful Light.
Poetry Copyright © 2018 – 2023 by Ena Whiteraven All rights reserved.
Artwork: artist unknown
