I See What You Did There

Though all are blessed with eyes to see, Eyes never lay sight upon the seer; No retina perceives the seedling beneath its iris. Ocular nerves sense Occam-ented pictures Of identity: portraits framed by Ourselves, Us, and Others - Whose eyes perceived whole But whose sense perceived naught. How is one to know Who it is for whom Their heart beats? Romantics look for themselves In others and the observation Of their heart’s beloved ideals: Experiences of beauty, tangibly Vicarious. Intellectuals observe through dissection And kill the living As quickly as it was born, So depth of connection Is sufficed by cold scalpels. The romantic and the heart proceed differently and disconnect from the disconnected intellect; yet each of Us Is perpetually lost without Our Other. Scalpels vanquish all resistance But all attempts to vulnerable depth mistake the sentimental Leaving only the literal. Yet poetry is not figurative solely, as the romantic wandering between objects discovers when shadows of the soul reveal the mistaking mates checkered by bad lighting. Vulnerable adjacency’s quakes Beget depths of valleys, forsaking Foresight to be bound to pits. Seers see nothing in fables Yet tell tales of vivid startles Recounting cinematic sights That the pupil finds to be hind, Thus doubts one without rods since Jesse was no profit; therefore, why make testaments to the old before the new? P a t i e n c e. For the seer has not yet spoken To teach what I's obstruct. Truth -- with mighty capital -- is thought Deferred beyond any measure, Depreciated for bearing a used cross. With inheritance in question, What flows from this river Already stepped in? Understanding, which can only be understood If known, and only known Through appreciation: the selfless know thyself. Understanding is So difficult To understand. Best reflected When succumb To illumined flow. Elucidation is for the patient. The heart and the mind Have more to say Than either can bear to hear. They can only write each other And print in their discursive style Garnering attention to distract From stillness. So to stillness go: Also sprach nicht zeitgeist, For Truth is timeless Due to incorporeal Incorporation in the real, Another name for the subtle, Since it is for all and for none, Thus, the isolated primes Find reunion despite the parallax isolating them, for two hemispheres unite at a horizon and though So much may never touch what be so near The union is true.