Sixty-Two

there comes a time when
eyes become saturated with
pretty view hilltops and
delicious raindrops. they
close, because they are heavy,
heavy with beauty, and there
is nothing else to be
done. in that blackness some
claim to see paint splotches of
color, perhaps a face, perhaps
just blackness making shapes
of its own. the wise say they
see what they want to see,
because volition is all we have.