The mantis shrimp Sees all that I never could. My creator, ever frugal, Gave me gifts Of word and tongue But only just this once, Bits of light cowed by the sun.
I peer through the window, Too short to see those Violet peaks.
I brush past reality Like the eyelash fluttering past My cheek, Never to really know.
Occhiolism:
n. the awareness of how fundamentally limited your senses are—noticing how little of your field of vision is ever in focus, how few colors you’re able to see, how few sounds you’re able to hear, and how intrusively your brain fills in the blanks with its own cartoonish extrapolations—which makes you wish you could experience the whole of reality instead of only evercatching a tiny glimpse of it, to just once step back from the keyhole and finally open the door.