A little sonder
goes a long way
in understanding you, him, her
--anyone not me;
your hands have their
own feel and peril;
your eyes, their sui generis orbit
with this world (of ours)
spinning on a differing axis;
and returning its sorrow,
its pleasure,
in an unabridged box
named after obscurities,
known only to you (not me);
the frustration of photographing
this amazing moment sets in
when I realize it already exists,
randomly,
vividly,
in every single person I daily see;
and their uniqueness
cannot be annulled.