You don't understand anything
lookng in someone's eye, in general.
Time comes you look in someone's eye
and gather you both
find an orphan long lost family
and would take scarred prisoners as gurus.
Look away fast but too late
each recognised in the other...

Perhaps it's put best in poetry
but that has never touched you.
It could just as well be illegible scrawls
bright graffiti on concrete canvases.
Snap the book shut. Spin it onto the cushions
and get on. Only later the benefits 
will be felt -the way your mind has worked on it-
but how could you know that now...

The advanced mathematics I studied
is forgotten but the feeling, the satisfaction,
is that it made sense. People
talk of a beauty in mathematics,
I think the beauty is that it makes sense.
I've tried to explain without any details
relying on the understanding tide
before I go under the waves forever.


◄ Unfinished

Mould On A Pristine Universe ►


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keith jeffries

Sat 8th Jan 2022 12:02

An interesting if not intriguing poem. I loathe maths!

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