Hannah, my friend, have you tried
feeling the dots to the words of poetry
to at least get a feel of how it is to be
at the center of tectonic plates shifting?
True its profundity could only addle you more,
but it’s really up to your mind’s eye if
you want them to provide you a clearer picture.
Oh, this may sound horrible, but how could you
possibly have a pigment of imagination to begin with?
You could only hear smiles and read between the lies,
and nothing ever more breaks my heart.
So what’s it really like for you not to be me,
me who has never really seen anything?
Not to take anything away from you,
you dreaming only in sounds and sensations
and me in figments you have no idea of
but I am weeping not only for your lack of vision
but most of all for your charming first few missions
if ever the window finally opens to set free your soul:
To witness a rainbow in the sky, for you consider
them to represent the people’s true colors;
To see the sun gliding down behind the mountains,
while all along it’s gliding up some place else;
And to watch the rainfall gathering water on a leaf,
as the rest of the world fusses over the next tsunami
with its blinded way of seeing.