I could speak to god, but the sky is empty,
this eye knows, this eye knows.
I could swim in the lake, but nothing is clear,
this eye knows, this eye knows.
I could climb the trees, but what awaits me at the top?
Shaky ground and cold breeze, sweet blessed relief.
The end of the puzzle brings boredom- a strange sort of grief.
This eye knows what this eye knows.
You can bring joy, but you have to have the guts,
this I know, this I know, this I know.
You can pump love far, but your heart must force it,
this I know, this I know, this I know.
You can create heavens, but can you control the brain?
it takes everything in, so easy to pin
everything down to the environment that it sways in.
This I know.
YOU ARE READING
Catherine
Poetry'Lines marry stars making constellations in the dark, yet my line has cut straight through my heart.' An anthology trying to make sense of the darkness in all its forms.
