Light fantastical

And - oh, I just start writting, thats the plan.
In her eyes there is light - in everything there is light.
In everything, in every particle, at the heart of everything, there is light.
Thats what she said.
Unlike me, she reflected on her words, they had meaning, they could be seen and heard.
When I was asked to repeat what I had said I couldn't,
I had not known what I would say and I couldn't recall what I had said when asked to lift the things up to be seen more clearly - the words were dead before they were formed.
I think people find this unsettling.
We open a box with words, dig about, stir stuff up.
I don't know when I'm going to do it and when I am asked "why?" and "what?"
All I know is that whatever it was has gone.
I think that this what this stuff does to me.
All of this thinking, all this talking - symbols and stories fishing about for a meaning that has no meaning.
It stirs things up, words, like long spoons glooping around in the soup.
Essential things that don't fit words come to the top like those wierd fish from the ocean floor.
Bug eyed, big teeth - dying (quick - gone) before our bewildered eyes.
We always see them dead or as they take their last breath.
Like the workings of the day or the innards of a cat - laid bare, dead.
Light is light, I think - and the dark is when there is not enough of it for me to see.