Saturday, December 14, 2019

Poem No. 3: Sight Unseen

I'd ask you 
Be my eyes.
Mine are poor;
one practically dead
the other
virtually blind. 

But...
you've made 
me realize - 
I like the way I 
see. I see
intuitively
noticing 
what needs 
addressing;
addressing what
asks to be noticed. 

See, there are
two skills,
two talents. 
Ours aren't 
different;
though they
diverge. 

Mine:
knowing 
a subject 
(object)
malleable
such as myself,
making 
contact 
that knows 
it's malleable
too.

Yours:
reciprocation
communication
a sharing of
thoughts
like memory.

Paths split 
by your expectation
and my desire:
two ways
to see. 

What were 
you expecting?

I know.
I am 
wrong, 
plenty. 

Still,
I do think
we'll meet
somewhere - 
either here
or after. 

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