Step away for a moment
From the rush of time, the
Rotation of the earth that
Makes day of human
Proportion. Light dispelling
Darkness we sighted think
Real only because light
Shows us what dark obscures
Color, shape, motion.
For all the reality we ascribe
To darkness it is not physical
Like a shroud or room-darkening
Blinds that under the best of
Circumstances only toys with
Light inveigling itself through
The cracks of the doors and
Windows edge, confirming its
True being, true power. The
World's been in a darkness
Of another sort--unseen an
Experiment in a box away
From any eye, from every ear.
But now our world sees itself
If only in the warmth on
Primitive skin, which eons on
Will crisply delineate the flowers
Of the field, the gray-green of its
Lover's eyes. So, too, with
Touch, once we distinguish
Ourselves as that inside
Our skin from that outside it.
We'll sense where our legs
Our hands are, if we're seated
Or upside down. We'll perceive
Motions of others by sight
Or by contact. And we'll hear
Through the air what we see
By light. If you're still outside
Our world, a giant floating in
The void, you will see nothing
Of import occurring on the
Surface except the seasons,
Patterns of clouds, periodic
Lightning strikes, occasional
Streaks of microscopic
Contrails, perhaps the bloom
Of obscuring smoke in the
Industrial age. You would learn
Little of the adventure of the
Universe's comprehending
Itself until you shrank to be us
In every regard, each limitation,
Each power, each vulnerability,
Tried each limb, measured each
Sense, loved as we love, worked
As we worked, struggled as we
Struggled, suffered as we suffered,
And died as we died.
c. J.S.Manista, 2015
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