Take it through the shade of your shadow-
Let blindness be your guide;
Walk from today to tomorrow
Relying on nothing on your side...
Fear is but a product of sensing,
A living abortion that looks so much older,
A monster out of one's own labor feeding
On freedom, enslaving space and caging in shelter.
Keep watching it build up, growing,
Or grope for the sustaining plug-
Favor euthanasia over suicide, weeding
Out what the self itself has dug.
It's an ever-skewed mirror after all-
Deceit is fullest when the eyes are open;
Doubt with them closed as death sees all
In its lucid dream, everything unhidden, swollen.
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Comments about this poem (Behold by Robert Lansing )
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