The way light shines on all things, each in its moment of eternity while the light embraces. Light born in that instant. Different from this moment to the next, from this day to the day that follows. Autumn light isn’t the same on the mountain as summer sunset. February dawn a sharp distance from the cockrow in May as it breaks over the canyon.

It seems as though it comes from the sun, but light emanates from the thing on which it seems to wash. It embraces but itself and its seer.

The ugliest thing, defiled and neglected by the world, is sacred in light. The radiance knows no judgment, and so it reveals no horror when it shines upon secrets. Nothing upon which it rains is beyond redemption, for redemption is its shining to dispel all shadow. It ignites all things born, all things made, in its moment and theirs.

In the day’s birth, the numinous bathes the earth in fresh dawn. When day lays dying on the bronzed horizon, in this death is beauty. Light never grows old, and so never counts age against the object of its sight.

When we come to know that the beams flow from the eye of the seer to meet the light from the thing seen, and that the lens is clear and pure, it can behold nothing in light’s stainless shafts but the emptiness which shines through its glass. In this emptiness, there can be no transgression. Only in judgment can the stain upon the glass casts its hue on the thing seen.

Light fills all space given it to occupy, yet weighs nothing. Traveling from distant suns, it is ancient, yet makes all things new.

When I see the impermanence of lambency’s brush with all things, I see the eternity in constant change, and the instant itself becomes forever. Timelessness flows from the eye, yet into it as well. It pierces the mail which would divide the infinite into boundered worlds, and which lies when the armor tells the insides of things from their outsides. The brilliance shines away these differences, uniting quantities and qualities, so that all, vast into an expanding vision, belongs to all. No you. No me. No birth. Only the deathless. Only the dreams of sleep, recollections of the shadow world, to imagine worlds born and past.

When I glimpse the beauty of all things by the effulgence they give without want, I see that in my essence, this light I am. Because the light shines on us all m from us all, regardless of worth or sin, it signals to the widening heaven that the dream of darkness is almost done.

© 2022 by Michael C. Just

Mike’s novel, The Dirt: The Journey of a Mystic Cowboy, is available in softcover or eBook formats through Amazon.

You can purchase the book through this website. Or go straight to amazon at https://www.amazon.com/s?k=the+dirt+journey+of+a+mystic+cowboy&crid=1S40Q4BXSUWJ6&sprefix=the+dirt%3A+journey+of+a+m%2Caps%2C180&ref=nb_sb_ss_i_1_23

Mike’s other titles, including The Crippy, The Mind Altar, and Canyon Calls, are available through Amazon at https://www.amazon.com/-/e/B002

Two of his short stories have recently been published online. The Obligate Carnivore has been published by the Scarlet Leaf Review @ Category: MICHAEL JUST – SCARLET LEAF REVIEW

I See You, Too has been published by the 96th of October @ I See You, Too – 96th of October