Here is a painting of our mind,
A congeries of colored shapes.
Balls of twisted twine unwind.
What rises into reach escapes.
A thought is not of any kind
To the overly sighted blind.
Atop the altar of the brain,
A holiness we can’t sustain
Explodes and falls like acid rain,
Leaving neither symbol nor stain.
The pyramid and the circle
Rise from a baseless miracle,
The infant’s incoherent cries
At what enters unprepared eyes.
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