by Richard Vince

Sometimes, the journey is the
Destination, and the destination
Is enlightenment, discovery of
What you always knew but
Did not trust yourself to know.

The truth was, as I always
Suspected, somewhere in the
Middle, and thus overlooked
By those on both sides.
Definitely different, yet
Somehow also the same.

We are spun so consistently
That we do not sense motion,
The notion we espouse
Appearing so obvious we have
No need of evidence, an article
Of faith by which we
Unwittingly live our lives.

We replicate two dimensional
Pictures we see and fail
To look over our shoulders,
Over the walls to the world
Beyond, out of honey drenched
Hives to the endless variety
Of flowers beyond.


Posted on 09/19/2020
Copyright © 2021 Richard Vince

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