The blossom spray you hold, so delicate,
occurs first-most within your mind. Your eyes
and hands are tools to sum its state,
so that your brain can fix its shape in space.
And that, means space and all that it implies,
ie, the earth, its skies, the human race,
indeed, the universe, exists inside.
Take you away, all semblance goes with you.
You want to think its elements abide,
but with you gone, it disappears like mist.
Seen from that vantage spot, all points of view,
and all you ever knew, does not exist.
What does this mean? The fabric and the truss
for all that you suppose, is not the way
it seems. Its all enough to make you cuss,
but 'granted' things, must be imposed hard brakes,
then grilled to see if maxims that they say,
portray Truth's paradigms without mistakes.
A brand new way to know the world, you must
employ. A full re-reckoning of ways
you read and valuate those things you trust
to bring the circle full, must be made whole.
The profane fiddle that your Nero plays,
must be laid waste, to free and light the soul.