I once said you should be
able to look along any line,
keep the light, grab hold of
its angle, and the hope on it.
Only this world, so full of
objective correlative, and
with these days, I’m not sure
whether that promise can be kept.
Dissociated sensibility shall
abjure the lines and thoughts
that set you apart from the
objectified world. Forget the promise.
Instead, the keen eyes amongst
us are in a hide, peering out,
wondering whether this is all
and whether the goodnight is final.
Or if, like it, we share the same
impulse to know ourselves.
It's a large thought. Damn it,
I am stunned by all I haven’t learnt.
© 2016 Rob Schackne
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