5442. WHEN I GREW ARMS

WHEN I GREW ARMS

When I grew arms enough to hold the world,

I already was nothing at all  -  hills and mountains

had no meaning and words were but disguise. The

world is a universal light, within, coursing back

and forth upon assumptions and beliefs. All that

we make is all that we are and the vastness of 

the world we see is, alone, our own construction.

You who scoff -  please go ahead then, scoff.

Raiment such as this you cannot rightly see, no

matter. When I grew arms to hold the world,

I had already thrown you off.