If We Could See The Mind
The eye provides a poor, simplistic view,
the outside of a person going by
or living with us, sharing bed and home:
red hair, a pretty face and form
or fat gut, grizzled face, unkempt.
But ah, if we could see the mind,
we'd see each person is not one or two —
not me, that fellow over there, or you.
The mind's a bobbin, rolling to extremes,
converging in the middle, wobbling back,
and what makes the impression is the mean: .
A person is a quilt, an in-between.