Before me
I feel the hand another placed
Whether it was so long
That the language they spoke was strange
Or near enough to touch
As was what was now
I cannot say

The demarcations by the brush
And knife and palate board were one
But here I know not to see them
Only to experience a part
A portion of the exchange
Like the loss in translation
So a blind man tries

It is one blank and haze from birth
A single shapeless depth
That endured the years into its gut
Among the faces and the shades
Like a flower know not its scent
Nor the ocean its expanse
I am unable to understand

Smooth cuts along their blades
And rows where the bristles gap
I wage the moats of paint and pencil
And take in their edge
Their weight upon the frame
Like I would the wind
How it blows through my stranger tips

One is lost to outside walls
Obstructing none who know to look
To only what is in one's reach
The window ahead
And not the mirrors
Or the mason brick barriers
That belay a soul whom thinks ahead

To other grasp the naked dream
An emptiness materialize
Through one notwithstanding yield
A glass even I can peer through
That drives the same man
The same soul
To the burdens I have been ******

True sight is one that catches sign
The single or a multitude
Infinity befalls the eye
But those who learn to sort their panes
Can feel through its difference
And guess its weight
Even if their worlds are blind