Focus down to the tiniest speck
or gape across a billion years,
but how, exactly, how?
Irises, corneas, rods and cones
are light, not sight,
the question of the question remains.
It’s patterns, I think,
it’s all about patterns—
we are pattern machines
and patterns rule our world:
edges and curves, light and dark,
colors that rise to surfaces
and memories that play
through and throughout.
It is all sight unseen, memories akin,
up and down, round and around,
moving one side to the other
until, effortlessly, we see ourselves
in the illusion we are sure surrounds us.
He is, don’t you see, the Cause of causes,
not the cause. That is the pattern for us.
Thank you for reading Vision. I humbly appreciate your visiting the Book of Pain, and as always, I look forward to your comments.
The photograph was taken on a walkabout photography day in Boston, Massachusetts. For…