a pantoum
We stain the vision with what we think we know.
I remember myself as a child, touching roses
On the other side of the street I was not allowed to cross
The moment and I stand purely sensual unframed by mental traffic.
I remember myself as a child, touching roses
The residue of last night’s rain falls from their petals
And the moment and I stand perfumed, purely sensual
Sight is a veil, dumbing down the supernatural.
The residue of last night’s rain falls from their petals.
Nostalgia craves pure essence, vision without an intervening eye.
Sight is a veil, dumbing down the transcendent.
Inhaling sweet perfume, I discover the workings of a mind.
Nostalgia craves pure essence, vision without the intervening eye.
Wants regress back to the Garden time when no translation was needed.
Sight is a veil, dumbing down innocence and beauty.
We lost the vision for what we thought we knew.
