The light is not perfect,
glaring through the window, it dissipates quickly,
leaving much of the room in something near mystery,
a beautiful, half lit reality,
something perhaps far better than the white wash of the sun
or perfect stage lighting
that expose too much, each flaw and scar vivid,
the beauty lost in too much reality.
So give me candle light,
or a single window or two.
It is enough for me to see reality by natural light,
soft, gentle, and remarkably true.