Gone Here

We might make a case it’s not
What you see but how you see

What you see makes what you see
Worth your tales. It’s a small world,

All in all, and you’re a small
Patch gnarled in the waves of it,

And your sense of it’s a knot
That you’ve made in your own waves.

You could march from peak to peak,
Dive in the deeps, have a chat

With folks great and small you meet,
And still not have seen that much,

A fact that haunts those of you
Who’ve learned it well, who chase down

The one thing missed, the not done.
Or, don’t do it. Don’t do one

Damned thing worth a tale, a boast,
A pat on the back, a thanks.

Sit in a chair, or just stand
In a spot, or just lie there.

Let those who have minds to see
Sense the dust waves in the air.