That Which Is Without Light

It is what it is.
Not hypothesized from theory.
Or sitting in laboratories,
Waiting to be probed under microscope.
This reality is basic to see as it is exposed.

It is what it is.
Flame from a fire burns.
That which is without light,
Becomes without definition in the dark.
And a mind comforted within limitation dies.

That's it!
No transit comes from anywhere,
To attach golden slippers, trumpets or wings.
When a wake up call has been attempted but ignored...
Delusions become more dangerous for those entrapped,
By them.

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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