My Human Disguise.
Reason arrives in the shape of a ball,
(And, no, it won’t come rolling when you call).
The limits of reason are sun-dark red
When the dust (ladders and tethers) of thought
Becloud a light in what you thought you sought.
They say there’s no saying what can’t be said.
No perfect round ball exists in nature,
Though some suggest we can imagine one.
About either ball, how can they be sure?
My reasoning only misshapes reason.
With two hands I toss the sunlight awry.
I can blind my mirrored eyes with a blink.
But no one can answer the question “why?”
No matter how reasonably they think.
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