Perspective can be a strange thing.
Much like a worm on a string
or wind that sings through the trees,
it twists and turns this way and that
and doesn’t settle or grow fat,
standing pat or as you please.
Don’t try to grasp a hold of it;
you’ll be convinced to up and quit.
You may as well knit warm steam
or reconcile the night and day.
Besides, the tricks the light will play
at their best may be just dreams.
To see a thing for what it is!
To somehow think this some great bliss,
you sadly miss the whole view.
Without the real horizon line
that demarcates yours and mine,
how will you find what is true?
11 DEC 2012
