Some peer for heaven’s star-load,
Grappling with infinite mathematics
And paradox strewn colourful
Beyond the impossible reach of the mind.

And yet others peer close as home
And find the universe layered
In unending planes, thick with reality
In which life forms inhabit.

To look is to exclude the rest,
Understanding found in the narrowing
Of the pin point eye, alive on the observed
But unconscious of other and else.

What dwells where we cannot see,
Where our minds have yet to examine,
Where are backs are turned
And worlds are yet to be seen?
© Ben Truesdale and distilledvoice, 2016

Personal Universe

Are there really
Any wrong turns
Or mistakes
In the journey
Of our living
And in the writing
Of our life?

It is one way
Or the other,
Or another
Entirely different
Something else.

Who knows
And who is right?
Who can know ‘the truth’
Beyond their own
Or pass a judgement
Beyond the perception of the self?

And who is not alone
Upon the earth,
Solitary and singular
In every sense,
Sharing but paradox
And conundrum
Of the personal universe?

© Ben Truesdale and distilledvoice, 2015.