I stare through my eye,
Trying to comprehend my inflicted claims
But the more I stare, mirrors blind my eye
For I see my reflection in various frames.

The voices of Bob Marley
Echo faintly into myself
But the visions as those of Haile Selassie
Inform me that I am not a distinct book on the shelf:

If the Creator has made us in His image,
Then He lives within us and we see through his eye
But we have lost the conception of this heritage
And overlook that you and I are I and I.