Home » Poems » Di11y Da11y » The Limitations of Perception

The Limitations of Perception

I'm looking at a reflection of a shadow It slowly undulates as if taking a breath Here in a sunlit room in the middle of the day Whilst I don't know which item casts the shadow It causes me no concern It's rise and fall never synchronises with mine An observation quite unremarkable Should it be studied The item casting the shadow Would be identified, the mystery solved No one is looking into this matter So on it will go until An item gets moved or the light changes Interrupted or gone forever There are no insights from a reflection of a shadow No synchronicity that will cause everything else to fall into place Unidentified, inorganic, out of sync with the watcher My mind and breath just aren't catching the rhythm Somewhere, at some point My eyes fell on the cause of the reflected shadow But it eludes me now As do other answers I seek that evaporate should I reach out to grasp them I may observe quietly without progress, at distance In a manner that just wastes my time

Post Comments

Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem.

Please Login to post a comment

Paul Willason

Date: 4/20/2023 2:56:00 PM

Do like this poem DD, the mind in that almost in-between state, life itself perhaps a cast shadow, the ambiguity of origin etc, lots of good imagery. I enjoyed my time in your poem, it seemed very familiar territory and yet new at the same time.

Di11y Da11y
Date: 4/20/2023 3:22:00 PM

It's another of those 'but for another second I might have had this all figured out' moments. On the cusp of a revelation that never transpires. Thanks for your comment, always appreciated

Speaks Volumes

Date: 4/20/2023 11:09:00 AM

Shadows are strange phenomena, they don't accurately reflect the same size and shape of the object to which they belong, hence the mystery occurs.Its like the small dot of light that darts around the room. There it is ever way you turn, until you see its form a shiny button a your own clothing, but t'was a mystery none the less. Loved your mysterious poem DD. So many unsolved mysteries, so little time to solve them all.

Di11y Da11y
Date: 4/20/2023 11:34:00 AM

Thanks Wen, I felt I was onto something at the time of writing. Some kind of explanation into how we worry over things that don't present with a name or face but just sit bothering us but unfathomable til the end of days and giving them too much thought is pointless. (Other ways of dealing with it also available!)