On Somethings Unclear, Occluded, Clouded

what i tell you sometimes are clouded,
hazy, misty, something that you receive and always pregnant with
the other coming questions
which of course,
i cannot answer, by their very nature, i am telling you only what
i have seen, not even what i have heard from them

hearsay (i just suppress them, folding them like shirts
and blankets in my cabinet) but

i am telling you the truth

and your face moves sidewise more often in disbelief
how can such a man like me be so foolish talking nonsense

(on something always so incomplete
and impenetrable) , occluded, shrouded sometimes in mystery
our minds unable to cope up
our hands simply of no use
because we cannot touch them
our eyes too
unable to see, our sense of smell
in utter futility

i am not stupid, honey, some things by their very own nature
are incomplete, shrouded, mysterious,
and cannot be relayed by words, not even by thoughts

simply because they are
and we can do nothing about it, except

to see, and just be silent
because they are divine

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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