Catching Light

He lived in a world
where stars shuttered and gasped
slamming their windows shut
for brightness became too blinding
and darkness too dulling
too peer outside

So he saw only the sun–or
at least hints of the sun
when his eyes hid under a shade
and rays became hints,
remnants of a power,
too sharp for his mortal eyes

He saw only the moon
that he failed to comprehend.
A papery beauty
he might be able to cut up
into a white circle
Romanticized into oblivion.

Cupped palms faced upward
not nearly clamped
but unwilling to let anything slip by
as he waited
for light to fall
into those fingers
that would not even let water slip through.