Regardless if I’m right or wrong
About what’s real or not,
Life’s caravan still moves along
With everything it’s got.
I can’t not see the way I do;
My eyes are made that way;
And consciousness is looking through
At all that’s on display.
And what it sees in every thing
Is all a part of its –
At once, as perfect as a ring
And one that’s smashed to bits.
So, though I seek to pierce the veil,
My doing so’s to no avail.
Photo by Alexander Grey on Unsplash
Perception
