Clueless Presence

It niggles at me that there is something deep inside me, which I do not see. Why am I so blind to something so obvious? I think that everyone else sees it, but doesn’t say what it is.

Did I forget to call somebody? Am I being impolite in some way?

I feel like I’m constantly forgetting the most important thing –even though I don’t know quite what it is.

Sometimes I wish I could figure out what it is, or at least gain a fleeting glimpse.

It’s been that way since time immemorial –or at least forty years. Only recently did I suspect that it was even here within me. I feel that this is the beginning of a grand mystery.

I wonder if part of it is a pulsar shooting down through the back of my neck then shaking dust off my rusty moon chakras. Perhaps my secret dream projects out a belly button window and onto a chalkboard for everyone to see the moment I leave rooms.

Here’s a medicine box full of stars with tricky stickpins. Please take a sticky trick pin and pass the box along through our tunnel visions.

I saw a man with Down Syndrome ambling behind the alley. He had the same whitish blue pulsar shimmering through the back of his brain, only his came out fivefold from his side hands. Even though I cannot see my own light, I feel it is similar to his. If people would quit crying about him and stop ignoring him, they would better see his illumination.

Maybe somebody will approach me and say, “Excuse me Banholzer, but there are some nasty polonium atoms dribbling down the side of your cheek. Allow me to wipe them clean away with this Politenessman hanky.”

It’s mesmerizing to wonder why I am so sightless. There must be good reasons.

I was reading the other day how Terror-eyes-zing it is for blind men to see lights for the first time. Traveling from zero dimensions to four in one fell swoop.

I might have the same problem.