An impressionist painting appears before me.
It’s Slightly Out Of Focus. I cannot discern
Between shadow and color. The image is vague.
The reality evident does not but plague
My most natural vision. Is this a downturn
In my quest to see clearly? I doubt this can be.
Every confounding episode lasts but a while.
So I know that this one will eventually
Pass away into memory. I may forget
All about this experience. I won’t regret
Having been in a fog. At some point I will see
What I haven’t seen this day. I may even smile.
Random thoughts as they scatter the untidy mind
Coalesce in confusion. The fuzziness there
Cannot be quite the good thing that I might address
Totally in a confident way, I confess.
If the mind harms the heart in a fit of despair
I will pray that the world is attentive and kind.
I can paint a nice picture from all that I know
At this time as at any. This time I must take
To restore my completeness as I do always.
To keep track of events as they happen these days
Is a task unbecoming. I am wide awake
As the world plays the mind, yet I’m destined to grow.