Only the Splendour of Light
The moon was looking like a crisp, silver banana tonight. Orion’s belt was sparkling.
But there were some constellations we couldn’t see – (WhaddooImean… there were gazillions of constellations we couldn’t see!!!)- I mean there were constellations we knew we should be able to see, but couldn’t, from where we were.
We needed to be somewhere darker.
So, I started building myself a series of metaphors about seeing the light.
First off I didn’t like the fact that I was advising myself to be consumed in darkness to get to see the light.
Then I figured it wasn’t so much that, it was that I shouldn’t bring a metaphorical torch of my own, which, despite being infinitely weaker than the stars, would be so near me, it would blind me to the light I was trying to see.
I liked that better.
It was then that I realised I had wandered (metaphorically) into Seamus Heaney’s poem “Exposure”.
In the poem he goes out to see a comet. He lights a wee fire and then gets focused on that and then misses “the comet’s pulsing rose.”
So, as Heaney steps back from the “meagre heat” and I set down my metaphorical torch and we look up into the metaphorical darkness…
… what will we see?
Meanwhile a lyric from a hymn, where the writer seems dazzled by a kind of light pollution as he considers God, comes to mind:
“Tis only the splendour of light hideth thee.”
Light hiding light.
Better put out mine.