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  • Cal Eidenoff

The Veil of Impressions

I sit here at my desk.

Spiderwebs caress its corners,

As I contemplate tragedy.

“Another one taken from us too soon.”

Why do we say such is tragic?

Everyday, veiled perceptions are eviscerated.

Yet, we feel sympathy, empathy, pity, and lack true skepticism.

How can one bear the weight of suffering, and balance it versus beauty?

I stare at a run-down home, its shingles tearing themselves apart.

I stare at a dew-covered nightshade birthing countless berries.

I stare at a doe in a harrowing landscape with an arrow piercing its heart.

I stare at a cedar bird house, freshly enveloped by a family of canaries.

I stare at barren desert, frigid and unrelenting,

As a small, steadfast lizard persists through the elements.

I see an iceberg, jagged,

Desolate, smooth edges stripe across.

Its underside is wholly tangible only when it crashes down, breaking apart one’s blissful ignorance.

When humanity creates love, he burdens himself.

Hatred is born of blood and is fostered to protect love.

If I’m subjected to either power, I submit to uniformity.

Even apathy inextricably tangles the individual to one another,

Inseparably, we live, we die.

We are burdened, we are enlightened.

We are the judge, jury, executioner.

We are everyone.

I am nothing...


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