Can we have a thought without seeing it?
Is it more like a wind in the mind?
Can you know anything without being it?
Is it only ourselves that we find
when we look at whatever we see?
Is every iota inimitable?
Or is All indistinguishably
just the same – illimitably indivisible:
an infantile game where whole equals part?
Are we irrefutable unity?
Is anything breeding a soul or a heart?
Can we look into this with impunity?
Or will some oligarch at the scent of dissent
march in with a threat to exterminate flies
it can swat and get rid of – more likely attempt
to relieve us of hope: believe in his probable lies?
Bad dream? So what? Spoon up some ice cream
with Smucker’s sweet strawberry jam,
and even if Real is revealed as Fake Scheme,
let’s bake, carve and eat it like Ham.
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