Fox Poems 1 - Dual Nature/Single Identity
Sometimes my mind truly meanders, and so I do not blame you for finding my writings at times unsettling. And I apologize--
Profusely.
Yet, what a loss for my thoughts to merely disappear. I wonder what things of note in this world would 'not' have happened, had certain thoughts just... 'disappeared'.
I see you draw back the arrow
A caustic remark
To the machinations of a being
Not like yourself.
Cicaeda in the shell
A question answered, in time:
A reality, or a dream?
One's soul... a soul.
One cannot live as another.
So draw back your arrows,
Protect your persona.
Chest beat, and moreover, flaunt your pride!
We are dismembered.
A soul is something we invented.
An ideal is something that can only be drawn,
But is thinner than air--unseen.
So, I see out through my own eyes.
Do others see out, through theirs?
Or are all other beings just--
Strange machines?
Foreign? Yes. Not of me.
And I am not of you.
Yet... I see through my own eyes.
I cannot say whether you--like me...
See out through those windows?
Those windows... of the soul.
Windows that do no more,
To show the unseen, than words.
So no proof. None.
And yet, the key--the hope that
Illuminates our doubts--
To draw up... yes... a story.
Those things we cannot prove,
We assume a nature for.
Those things that we pretend to know--
Are our one false light to navigate.
When the unseen is out of our minds,
We focus only on the things that can be seen.
We cross the waters that lie within the light of proof.
All else is assumed. And no darkness then remains.
To know all, would surely mean to be no more.
Individuality, a mark of what one has not felt, as much as what one has.