Seeing

you cannot see the world
from where you stand,
for you've knotted yourself,
planted yourself
too firm, too deep,

and so you look out
into the emptiness
with reticent eyes,
spinning dreams, and
crocheting memories,

weaving patterns
that only fit
into your template
of how the world
should be,
snipping off loose
unseemly threads,
in disbelief. 

your patterns fill
but the emptiness
you fear,
the very space
which holds
warp and weft
in sweet conflict.

when you slip
into the intangible
formless emptiness,
you will see
the world
as it really is,
not the way
you want it to be.