Vision:
Written December 2, 2020
Could it be That all I see around me Is only a delusion? And all I feel inside me Or view in lovely Earth Or hear in earnest melody Is in fact reality? Are these pins which hold my frailty The scaffold or the cruelty? Do these thoughts that bind My mind and tear my hopes Image truth or falsity? Are these dreams I know That reach transcendent height And shatter me with light The vision or the being? How is it that the firmest things, That charm my soul and Wake my heart and Make me whole Are those that are most fleeting? Is it really so That softest snow And pungent cold And full moon's glow Mean less Than leaves of grass And splattered ink, Pencil stubs, And midnight oil? What can define A person like me, Form a new stone From ash and time, Break apart reality And find That it could be?