narrow perspective

how very bold of

you to assume our viewpoint

is that of chained prey

how very wise of

you to claim us unable

of observation

how very frank of

you to state we are slaves to

mirrors of ourselves

how cynical of

you to tell us we can’t see

past ambiguous image

is the ability of man measure in his wit?

in his intelligence?

his knowledge?

how close to truth his perception is? the unobservable is beyond us,

our feeble, fragile human minds, our caprices, our whims;

only gods can see clearly the truth, can they?

or can they not?

who,

if not us who built the wheel,

can see its true form,

it’s purpose,

the mastery of the craftsman

and the value it holds?

who,

if not the woman who births a child,

can see who he is,

and see him for the truth behind him,

so unattainable,

immeasurable,

yet undeniably there

and felt, sensed,

with every fiber of the being,

every fragment of the soul,

in addition to every piece of the mind?

who,

if not i,

know the truth behind the film of my words?

creativity bears no source in reason,

epithets are not planned

and neither are metaphors,

hyperboles,

literary devices

that describe what an author says and how he says it,

how he feels his work

and how he twists the words to his liking

and not to a greater cosmic plan‘s fulfillment.

how very humble

of you to say that you belong to

the only caste that truly sees.

how truly very humble of you.