IN WHAT I SEE,
SOMETHING I DO NOT SEE
I KNOW NOW THAT I AM THAT WHICH, BEFORE, THEY HAD USED TO PLAY ME: THAT WHICH SCULPTS THE TREE; WHICH JUGGLES THE EARTH, WHICH FIRES THE SEA.
SHOULD I PONDER WHENCE IT CAME OR OF WHAT IT IS MADE?
WOULD I SCRUTINIZE THE LENSES OF MY EYES OR SAW AT THE BRANCH ON WHICH I FROWN, ASTRIDE?
I SEE NOW, IN WHAT I SEE, THAT THESE I’S ARE EACH EXPRESSIONS OF IT. WERE I TO FORGET THE I! WERE THAT OTHER EYE BE SET FREE,
I WOULD SEE, WHAT LIES HIDDEN BEHIND THEE.
….BUT A GLIMPSE….
I WOULD FLOAT BENEATH THE SURFACE OF DAWN AS FEARS AND DREAMS LAP UNBIDDEN ACROSS THIS MIND.
‘THAT’S ME AND THEY ARE MINE!’ I SCREAM, DEFIANT, IF MUTE TO ALL BUT I.
BUT NOW I JUST SIT UP AND BREATHE, ‘NO’.
I JUST CHUCKLE AT THE ACHES, SNIFF AT THE FEARS AND LAUGH AT THIS (MY?) FORE AND AFT:
THAT BEFORE AND AFTER; THE ONE DONE AND t’OTHER YET TO COME
I AM THE ETERNAL PROW THAT PLOUGHS THE CURRENTS OF TIME. I AM THAT WHICH SEES. NOT THE I BUT THE IT.
I AM, FINALLY THAT EYE THAT SEES THE I.
But rarely, if ever, my love. I shouldn’t have sought it out. I’m sorry, but I had to. It changed everything. It’s all much easier now.
Why, I still ask, did I seek to wake what was happy sleeping?
It was pride. Now I am left with neither, or just fragments. Was it worth it?