I heard what wasn’t said
I saw what wasn’t there
Shouldn’t I know better by now than to believe mere words and gestures, using reason to smooth over discordant realities
I let the blinding rain and blasts of stormy air to be muddled over
With forecasts of easy climes and scattered light
Obscuring what I felt with lame reason
Letting imagination leave too much an imprint on bare reality
But, I’ll do it again
And why? Why choose this blindness?
Because how else will reality become new
And defy what already is?