it must be possible, he said, to hear lights.
when the sun creaks into your room at dawn, and you hear it like a child tip-toeing on hardwood floors.
when he opens the door late at night after you are asleep, the light wakes you, telling you, warning you, he's coming to touch you.
when the dim light of a fishing boat rocks to and from with the wave of the sea, and you hear it whispering 'it will all be okay.'
it must be possible to hear light, he said. its trying to talk to us every chance it gets. you just have to listen. listen with your eyes.
listen for the sunset. and hear it say goodbye, goodbye, until tomorrow.
