Sunlight breaks upon the sharp
And jagged edges of the dark
And broken mirrors of the world;
Splinters into colours, swirls
Into eyes and into brain – imprinting there a memory-stain – then out across the dark in waves;
Photon-angels.
Our world is but a narrow strand,
A seven-colour rainbow band
Where runs the line that we call time,
Along whose tracks we are confined.
Blinkered little creatures, we.
Who only here and now can see,
Yet sometimes seem to see (briefly)
Beyond the rainbow.