The morning sun bursts through the maple’s leaves
Illuminating spiders’ silver webs.
The hosta and rose I can now perceive
Are woven together. As the dawn ebbs
The glittering unifying cords fade
From perception. I smile. Perception!
Perception is Imagination’s bondmaid.
Is She a projection¬–a deception?
Or the echoes of a creative light
That require a lifetime for my eyes
To reckon with, to befriend, to delight?
I catch glimpses. My perception belies
The truth. And yet, light still calls to light
From Eden’s dawn to my dimmed inner sight.
-Allegra Jordan, 2017