manifest disposition

occasionally--
i believe i have a few things to say
that i understand the motion the world speaks with
that your heart is in a plastic bag before me.

can i calculate the number of drops the sky would sigh
each morning?
could i possibly force the message to materialize within your
masked eyes?
could i ever number the lines that compose the reassurance of
your thoughtful hands?

i ask with a quivering, faultering presence of mind--
what could i possibly understand at all?
the turning of the ocean under an expanse filled with
the nightlights of the heavens?
never
the timbre of light, colors that clothe every
creature and thing?
not at all.
the delicate silence, a gossamer that enwraps
the breaking dawn?
of course not.

above all,
it is my pretension that compels
me to believe i understand.
it is my vanity that leads me into
the darker corners of ignorance.

i pale in the light of exposition.
your words are too much for me.

to believe i hold your substance in the palm of my hand..
absurd.

omniscience is a talent i do not possess.