If this be matter, what matter is it?
It leaves no stain upon my pale, cold skin,
I cannot feel it, touch, taste or hear it,
Yet I perceive it; just how can this be?
I am not dead; most certainly alive!
It is not light and yet illuminates,
Although wrapped in darkness, yet I can see
This all important and elusive thing;
That it matters is true enough, yet I
Cannot comprehend uncreated light.
© Freya Pickard 2015
Freya Pickard is a cancer survivor, trying to re-discover her creativity after the fact. She is the author of Dragonscale Leggings and is currently writing poetry in order to try and get her creative flow to return. Freya blogs at either: purehaiku.wordpress.com or dragonscaleclippings.wordpress.com.