“What do we call visible light? We call it color. But the electromagnetic spectrum runs to zero in one direction and infinity in the other, so really, children, mathematically, all of light is invisible.”
–Anthony Doer, All the Light We Cannot See
Redshifting and blue,
all the colors, hues
we cannot see, and beyond
our comprehension, or will–
yet, don’t they exist still?
And the man, there on his rags,
sleeping on his clothes in bags–
if we walk by him unseeing
does it mean he’s not a being
worthy of a view, a thought
of what once was? Even if
only a trace of has been–wisps
that linger here–the invisible who
are all the colors, all the hues
as sunset slow shifts to indigo
and all the in-between,
there, find all the light that’s there
find it, unseen and seen.
This is for my prompt at dVerse, where we’re exploring the invisible. I was inspired by the quotation I used and also by the mural that I just happened to see on Sunday, after I had written and scheduled the prompt. Isn’t it weird how that works?