best lights

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    It’s not so much the words
    as the way they sometimes
    line up, the way they are
    placed on the page —
    single syllables can speak,
    tear open false healings,
    deep calling to deep
    with faith and familiarity
    both brand new and ages old.
    I saw these four words:
    our own best lights
    at the tail end of a sentence
    about being true

    and I wondered where
    my best lights had gone,
    why I become too easily
    accustomed to beams
    buried under bushel baskets
    of daily living, how I can
    forget what brightness is,
    how easily dim becomes
    the definition of normal.
    Yet, found by four small
    words, I remember the light
    shines in the darkness and
    the darkness cannot put it out.

    Peace,
    Milton

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