The Split Tail of the Snake

 You’re so fixed on its tongue
You don’t see the strange tail.

Why would stars split like that?
Is it all in our heads,

This world, all views we hold?
Then what are our heads in?

Yes, it’s all what we sense,
And we can’t get past that,

But if we err, we err
More by the act of claims

To err or to not err.
What we sense is mere sense,

It’s own fact, just a part,
Sure, but as much a part

Of the stars as a star,
And our ends, like those stars,

Split—our claims go their way
As sense sinks out of sight.