I can see clearly
eyes like an eagle
leaf, bird and grain of sand.
So why the clouds in my head,
like fluffy cotton balls
keeping me from seeing with my mind
as lucidly as with my eyes?
As if the wattage is too low,
or the curtains drawn almost closed
where thought and sight draw wide apart
and wit and wisdom fall as short as my temper.
To think, perchance to dream
to know, and not guess
to spear with thought and words
and not bludgeon unseeing
like a blindfolded person hitting a piñata.
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