When I don’t watch the world through concaves,

I see.

Lights merge – yellow and green,
Bright reds and calm blues.

They lose their edges,
Men, women and children are the sameness of all things vague.

The world of perfection set aside,
Call it an artist’s impression, if you’d like.

You find the horizon at your feet,
which otherwise you barely can reach.

But then my glasses are, once again, wiped clean,
The fog gone and the distinction unwelcome.

What remains is, the starkness of reality glaring back at me.

What remains is, the starkness of reality glaring back at me.

Advertisements

2 thoughts on “Seeing

  1. Loved reading your piece, its short and sweet. Better described as a short pleasurable journey that lasts long in the mind, with no rigour on the body. 👌

    Like

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s