Oh!
How difficult it is
To see
That even
The inability to see is, ‘it,’
That all our striving
Is ‘it,’
That even at rest
Or amidst the fray,
Working every day
Or sleeping,
Walking, running
Or creeping,
Eating, breathing,
Washing and cleaning,
Sitting
And daydreaming,
All these
And more
Are just exactly
What we’re looking for,
Making tea
And drinking it,
Struggling with pain
And relaxation,
Racing against the clock
And putting our feet up,
Running for a train
And rushing home again,
It’s all laid out in plain view
But still we strain
To make some gains,
On the road to where we’ve always been.
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