Wednesday, April 27, 2005

Why things disappear when you stare too long

Plato might say that the
thing itself doesn't cease to exist
Only that our vision fails
We regress back to the darkness
And fail to see the real

Then again, Berkeley would tell us
That our imagination quit working
But the thing still is there
Even though we don't see it
Because it's settled down deep
In the mind of God

But I keep gazing at your eyes
And your face is fading quickly in my mind
You would get up and walk away
If it were not for the way that you were
Holding on for dear life with your
Irises, grasping at my soul through your open windows

It's little wonder, then, that all else would
Disappear--all I see is you, the constant,
While everything else would leave
Us two poor beggars behind in their wake.


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