The Raptures of Polyps

 
To plumb the depths of mind,  
a cavern vast,  
Where shadows dance  
and hidden pathways twist.  
   
The first, stark question,  
echoing at last:  
What light will pierce  
this ever-present mist?  
   
A blindman's fumble,  
grasping at the void,  
A search for purchase,  
where no foothold lies.  
   
Yet, in this darkness,  
dreams are unalloyed,  
A writer's touch,  
where starlight fills the skies.  
   
The sun, a forge,  
where fiery rivers run,  
Its light descends,  
a gift of golden grace.  
   
Through verdant leaves,  
its vital work is done,  
And life unfolds,  
in time and in its place.  
   
From ocean's depths,  
a memory's soft gleam,  
A polyp's form,  
a flower in the night.  
 
A living lamp, to chase  
the shadowed dream,  
A coral light,  
born from inner sight.