Second Sight

(x = space)

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Second Sight

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Be Thou, my vision

Begins my favorite song

In church

God should direct my sight

I should set my sight

On God

Maybe to the classic hills

Where help does not come from

Though our mortal selves might hope

But from God

Who made heaven and Earth

And those hills

Behind which God will come

If God wills

The will of God

We want to know

We get in wrestling matches

So to know

But the outcome is unclear, as the child’s

Magic 8-ball used to tell us

And then we grew

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God wills

It’s no fun not knowing

Inwardly, we might turn into fatalism

And there are less constructive

Ways

Is there a knowing beyond knowing?

I imagine so

But without genetic arranging

Or supernal training,

I must wait my turn

With the rest

Who want to know when heaven comes

And this be paradise

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Or what to do about tomorrow,

As if clairvoyance

Or supernal understanding

Were a guessing game

Sorry

If such, then such should be respected

All of us may pray, if we may

And we should,

Then use our best impulses

And instincts

Our best use of faith

To go through the day

Hope for tomorrow

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Clarity, the better vision

Direction, as we know it,

And we have ways to know a lot

With faith and allowance

For the rest

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C L Couch

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Photo by Roland Seifert on Unsplash

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Proportional Response

(x = space)

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Proportional Response

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It’s an eye for eye

Without, we hope,

Everyone going blind

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But then the blind we have,

Over-sensate in four ways,

Might have to lead

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The only ones who know

How to have sight

Without the eyes

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C L Couch

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https://news.yahoo.com/exclusive-u-carries-airstrike-against-233431848.html

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By Airman 1st Class Chad Warren – US Air Force Public Affairs [1], Public Domain, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=7377988

A flight of F-15C Eagles from the flies during a solar eclipse in Okinawa July 22, 2009.

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Second-Storey Moor

Second-Storey Moor

On a misty-morning
Winter January day,
I look out the window

All I see is fog and
Lack of definition
Except for one tree
Of bare branches

Reaching black into
My windowed sky

I didn’t expect the
Art and science of
This: skillful, narrow
Firm and slender
Branches reaching

With a clarity that
Startles a black vision
Against smoky
Pervasive mist

Grey behind each
Branch, rendering
All else vague

What is familiar
Now is mystery
And invitation