Than the one we worship
But the hawk that comes close
Is more familiar.
~~
We who make the least etheric goods
Can afford to think our thoughts are less,
A quotient of air, a gradient of nothingness,
For what imprisons us we're proud to possess.
~~
A father dominates his daughter at hoops
But one would never know,
Nor the meaning feet deal to a soccer ball --
How heavy in the material must holiness go.
~~
We savor and wait for the pink
As ideal at the end of the day.
Is it real, we ask, knowing it's physical,
Colors still stable to unbelieving eyes.
~~
How dimly the world of thought
We come from filters in
To the neighborhood of hard-edged forms
And children spiraling with glee.
~~
The blue light dog, with a tennis ball
In its snout, can only smile
At how we've made things simple,
Impossible to transcend.
