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poetry
Perspective
"Perspective" - 1/24/21
 
What does it mean to "see and be seen"
She looks through the stained glass that is her
Temporary front door and she thinks "I abhor, I abhor..."
 
Most people don't consider the words they say to themselves
As anything more than a kind of space-filling past-time
A struggle to drape the shivering void of silence
 
With something less lonely than death's inevitability
Sipping distance slowly, inhaling remnants of what was once
Holy it becomes harder and harder to keep one's thoughts pure
 
The sun shines brighter though, than any semblance of doubt
And even on carpets riddled with dust and crumbs reflecting
What souls for centuries have yearned to do without (loss)
 
A kind of whisper-floss avails that separates the hearts eye
From the mind's refined reticence and slowly morphs from
Morbidity's malaise to resurgence's affection for hope
 
When Future feels abstract resiliencies may crack
Better judgements become refracted not with light
But with fiery prisms of presumptions, that imprison
 
And so, I consider your point of view empathetically
Adjusting my preconceptions with a kind of revelry
My perspective feels sharp but my edges are softened
 
By the passage of time and this luxurious ability
To understand the reasons you do not trust me
Have little to nothing to do with me; it's merely fear's filigree