Forms Of Reason Poem by Garnet Robbie

I was walking down the street one day;
Quaint, I know, but arguably true,
when all at once and out of the blue,
an idea came into my view, hey!
Aha! says I, That's it! Yeah! Yes!

I considered and pondered, thought a bit,
Feels right, says I, This IS it!
I dreamed awhile about the possibilities,
I wanted to explore its potentiality,
Tap 'er cool, says I, need practicality

Turned a corner, to my surprise,
A prime example before my eyes,
A perfect illustration of the insight which transpired
In those few moments before I conspired
to change direction in my real imagine area...

Thats what I'm talkin about, thought I
This is but one way this can be viewed:
I reflected, expectantly, and searched about.
I reflected and searched, expectantly, about.
I reflected and searched about, expectantly.

Ohh.. yeah! I heard some angels sigh,
And turned my gaze towards the sky,
It's like a cloud, movin from east to west,
dissipatin and dispensin a sustaining grace
upon this unawareness unaware-necessarily

Comparatively obvious, one could surmise
a relatively blatant indication
if considered under balancing conditions
under one-to-one, corresponding situations
All other factors, equal - it would be assumed

In contrast, an air of subtlety
hangin in a coolish casual mystery
disguised, a disguise in dark shades, no doubt
not to not see naught from the inside out
but because naught is seen, 'less allowed

As well, as well I may have guessed
there was a simple reason for all of this
a primal source of that phenomenon
lying in a shadow, lain, consequent,
to virtue of a foreknown, fateful consequence

Though its ultimate reality could not be told,
namelessness its pre-existent indication,
still, mercifully, there were ways to point the way
and its passing plentifully traced
or, but not and, resurrections portrayed

In fact, enumerating its appearance
would be a virtual impossibility;
even casual attention to its deportments
reveal a symphathetic harmony of movements
which might be likened to flickers of reality

Immensely, appropriately qualified
as evidenced by anything that's true
having unnumbered circumstantial application
independently possessed of its own justification
unencumbered by materialistic folly, it stood.

And so it was that my story came to be;
a walkabout come to a destiny
though my records kept but sixty steps,
It was really only seven, technically but four,
Yet if the truth be known, one, one step into eternity.