Obscurity
Modern poetry modern verse contemporary poetry contemporary verse modern poem contemporary poem
Reality is quite unseen, night mice
And Black Holes, and the darks of oceans deep
Below the need for eyes, and like the ice
In crystals underneath the clouds that creep
Above them on the far side of a shape
Like Saturn. Silence is the breathing Gods
Do. That invisibility will scrape
Against your hidden heart. They turn to frauds
The thoughts that Sheldon sees, that super sleuth.
A pheasant in the grass of royal fields
Is just imagined when compared with truth.
Reality is voiceless as the yields
Of virus mutants. Humans grind against
Stealth facts. Reality is hardly sensed.
~ Phillip Whidden