Words from Within

 

What good’s a house that scorns to catch the light?
Can there be any clumsier design
Than windows placed where sun demurs to shine,
Turning the livelong day into near-night?
What good’s a house that scorns to catch the light?
Within, life’s fullest joy eludes our sight
Or enters dimly, as through fine-meshed screen
Or sheer imagination. Yet the scene
Of nature’s glory blazes warm and bright!
What good’s a house that scorns to catch the light?
Our homes, as “castles,” ought to boast such gold
As bathed the vastness that first day of old
When cosmic sweeps were doused with yellow-white.
What good’s a house that scorns to catch the light?
We still have time, I think, to get it right:
Slice holes in roofs for skylights, trim a bough
That blocks our spirits’ sustenance; from now
On, situate our homes at fitting height
And setting, and with aspect that we might
Catch all our outer, as our inner, light.

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