Foregone Conclusions

Under My Dome

One day, perhaps in my future's past,

I will arrive at the destination I have

long saught to be my inner home.  Where

trees are lush and full and where the

echoes of my childhood are but mere pings

not unlike that of straight pin dropped

upon a granite floor.

Perecption is deceiving.  Life is illusory

until it, as time, folds neatly and compactly

into the miasma that final oblivion brings

and all that is left is hindsight.  A hindsight

so pure and clean as mountain water in cupped

hands.  Fresh, clear, new from the snow and ready

to drink.  It's taste and refreshment as real and

right as the rain.  It's clarity as stark and

absolute as the first sight of new snow.

Therefore look deep into oneself and find what

visions lie there and seek to tell their tale

without hesitation or delay.  The truth delights

and lies dilute.  Let the forgone conclusions of

your existence always be in your ability to look

towards and see the light.  It is the polemark

which will see you through all adversity and

whatever illusions may come.  This is the best

that I have to offer because it is the crux of

all I have learned.  Grow. And be content in the

growing.  Live.  And be well in the living. From

these things, you will

Author's Notes/Comments: 

This poem answers the question "what are your experiences and how have they helped your sense of vision?".

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