exhibit a

walking with the scientist that lives inside my heart
and the priest inside my mind
i find again we are all locked in debate
on how my reality should be defined

suddenly a frog appeared in the grass
i thought to myself how is it that it is alive
at only one hundredth of my perception
does it still exist when i close my eyes

i smiled as the mystery deepened
i reached for the frog but came up with a stone
whatever destiny the frog held
i would not know since i held the rock alone


exhibit b

i hefted this weight
this solid piece of earth
and i pondered if it had a life too
i wondered of its spiritual worth

but as i turned lost in my thoughts
i fell to the side and sort of took a spill
i was pitched down a steep embankment
and came to rest in a sun soaked cornfield

i then remembered the rock i dropped
that fell from my grasp and into the air
whatever destiny the stone held
i would not know because i landed here


exhibit c

at the centered of this field
was the corpse of an old scarecrow
it lay in a shallow pond
that was made from the seasons ebb and flow

its tattered rags served as a net
some tiny fish were within confined
their entire reality existed here
in a microscopic world so unlike mine

i lifted their veiled barrier for a better look
and watched them leave to my dismay
whatever destiny the fish held
i would not know since they swam away


furthermore

after my day of musing
about this and about that
after a bath and warm slippers by the fire
i sifted through the facts

i thought about the frog the stone the fish
and about what each had shown
but whatever destiny i held
to them it would never be known


in closing

my reality is defined by me
whether i open or close my eyes
surly your reality would cease to be
if by chance one day i died

we are all single universes
and every universe can effect
but whatever destiny you hold
i would never know if we had not met

Very good Poeticwolf. I really like this one.

thank you

Our perception of life...is it just an illusion? humm. Great
writing...making me think.

Hey PoeticWolf,
I like the connections you make between words, the way you try to
draw a picture with less obvious words. Does your poetry flow or do
have to picture each stanza first?

Sometimes I don't even know what I'm going to write. I start with a
thought and it flows. I actually have to read it myself to see what it
says, like automatic writing. And sometimes, I write, cross out, move a
line, add something, like I can't get it to join.

Anyway, I enjoy reading your thoughts, thanks.

That is one beautiful piece of work