Incoming reception obscured by clouds;
too much distracting refraction contained in
billions of tiny particles in the sky.
Blood stains the ice on the
sides of a southbound train.
The need comes to breathe deep
and search for pictures in the snow.
Adjust the antennas
until the signal becomes clear.
Sight is only the perception of light
reflecting off objects and surfaces.
One can travel quite far without seeing
provided one has a sense of position.
Direction and acceleration take into account
one’s place relative to a given point in space.
All compasses track a constantly moving spot
that we label “True North.”
Both flying and falling
adhere to invisible rhythms.
Who can pretend to know the end
of a beam of light racing through space?
The best one can do is try to keep pace.
We base our current perceptions
on the history of our observations,
yet certain values still remain variable.
Unspokens, unknowns,
things seen and unseen.
We seek definition by trying to
put a frame around the sky.
Reason bears a limited elasticity.
Flexibility is required to grasp
all of the moving parts.
Things can be built and
things can be torn down;
time will continue to pass.
The motion of waves carries a unique rhythm
generated by a far-off source.
Copyright (C) 2012 by Eric Landuyt
"Blood stains the ice on the sides of a southbound train," is a cool image. I like it. It gets somewhat forgotten by the end, however, as the poem transforms into a more philosophical nature. I'm not sure if that phrase can coexist with the poem, since it seems thematically out of place.
ReplyDeleteI also liked the contrast established by talking about all we don't know through scientific terms, which gives weight and importance to the field. That really seems like the heart of the piece, the part you might want to focus on more.