Being Light Poem by aMan Bloom

Let’s talk about beings made of light, the light beings.

Though they have no use for what we value…

the metals and meats, the roads and fortunes, even love, hope and joy…

Nevertheless they find us charming, endearing, curiously humorous and somehow

seem to want to support us, simply because we are here and they can.

Strictly speaking, they’ve got nothing else to do, which we can’t understand,

living in a realm opposite theirs…

For example, if they were to live in the plane of us, they must eat the sun.

Now, in a way we eat the sun, too, though ray by ray…

If we were to live in the plane of them, our skin wouldn’t hold our selves in,

which likely is a lot as they.

Light beings seem never to die.

Neither might they have anything like life…

They don’t need confidence, independence, connection or any sense of self.

Nothing complex, they are the first signs of life to come about in this universe,

then protons, electrons and other modes of energy, slowed as time too becomes,

making the soup of matter.

We, we are children of light…dimmed, dim-witted, damned, doomed…