we see more, that’s all

not-a-poetWhen people are busy filling in the gaps,
we are slow to move,
stare with savage intent,
at the interstices,
aching for meaning,
fondling with the fingers of our minds,
to sift through the Braille of what it all means.

Things are often in slow motion,
if not totally frozen,
if but long enough for us to suck the seed,
of meaning from it.
Be it a pencil,
or a cloud,
Animate or not,
breathing or lifeless,
we extract with biopsy precision,
enough to help you realise what you missed.
W.E.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s