The Prison of the Surface

It's the knowing that
Everything the eyes can see
Is just a lifeless shadow,
And nothing that the mind can taste
Has the flavor of the real.

But it's there inside the birds that fly
And trees that wave
Though none can ever see it.
Something knows it's there
But what it is,
One can't be sure.

The shine itself
As it leaves
Only circles back
Endlessly,
For form contains
All it wants you to know
And nothing more.

This paradise
I see and know,
Of blooming love
And beauty ever moving to the new

Will never speak beyond itself,
Or wander to a destination—
But all we are needs only that.