What passes through gates, touches without hands-

Exposes, protects; is in motion yet still-

Holds time captive, frees the Truth where it lands,

Arrives without wait; bends by its own will?

Born of stars it remains whole when it scatters,

Can pierce like swords, pure in warmth like Dawn,

Known without introductions, made of no matter-

Awakens deep slumbers, drawn out like a yawn?

In its absence there’s proof of its presence,

With its guidance we discover we’re lost,

Infinity reduced to its essence,

The other witness to distances crossed.

Teacher without speech, Corrector of Sight,

Bodies defined in shapes named by the Light.