Fovea

I pause and breathless gasp at stars
which loose ten thousand brilliant shafts
through narrowed iris, fluoresce cones.

Though arctic air cannot be warmed
by radiant sun which flects off snow,
sweat seeps its way ’round goggled lens

as aloed zinc secures my skin;
and still my soul has no defense
against these constellated rays.

A light, ’tis said, is ne’er as bright
as in the deepest dark of night;
yet proverbs poorly refract truth.

About Greg Wright

I have worn many hats as a writer and editor over the years. These blog entries will be more akin to the newsletter columns I wrote for Normandy Christian Church and Puget Sound Christian College in the "old days" than my more recent journalistic work at Hollywood Jesus, Past the Popcorn, or SeaTac Blog. They will also be of a more overtly spiritual nature than most of my recent work.
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