without looking, seeing

with observation influencing
our measurements;
we cannot expect to see
where ever we look, whatever we think—
our eyes filtering like sunlight through sublime lime green canopies swaying through the winds, through the hot deep pink of our skin, knocking at the doors of our eyelids just above the blinking of our minds and flickering like shadow puppets cast down to earth’s dirt and soil, its dancing like night come alive

and like crickets chirpings, adulterous
to the silence of the night,
a secret symphony sepulture
for the unconscious and dead,
all at once we sing our plight,
each to his one tune,
slowly disappearing into the midst
of our dreams for everything of glory, or infamy
smirking at the masses enthralled,
the more so the more you make a friend
and hear his whole song

and knowing we couldn’t have it all,
the day and the night, the silence and the beat drop,
we find the best times to speak and to sleep,
from first steps, to swift sprints, to full stands and leaps;
from basic points, to lines and fields, to our lives in lightyears;
from heart to soul to god and back for you, sufficient a judge:
there’s what we wanted, all we sought, and where we are in the end;
doubt has no dimension or direction
and a question looks both ways before crossing

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