We but discern a dismal part of all
That comes to be in this our fluid and
Foaming universe. We do not even
Comprehend a single aspen leaf with
Its chemistry of green, which garners bright
Essence of the sun and shapes it to a
Nutrient form. A truly wondrous
Feat all rightly done without the weak and
Wobbly framework called i. How do we then
For all to hear shout praises of mankind
While living in such graven ignorance?
It is the fearful ego, the born self,
The picker and chooser of aspects to
Be known from out the billions of flashing
Contacts that do fall upon our meager
Senses which builds a picture incomplete
And grandly presents it to the conscious
Realm as a magnificent and righteous
Whole. After duly changing it of course
To conform to its own safe and stunted
Understanding of what should now exist.
So when upon the inward stage appears
A percept, the i in heedless reflex does
Dress it up in cloak or gown, good or bad,
Kind or fearsome, better or worse, and our
Lesser mind takes hold this falsely molded
Image as the real. Thus made, we swiftly
Go with deluded sight where angels scarce
Do tread,           and puzzle at our suffering.