Of Two Minds
The man who mistook a spider’s web for a galaxy.
Who thought his shirt buttons were Saturn’s moons.
Who swore his mirror was a window God looked in,
always in two places and of two minds.
He chased his shadow, running ahead of himself.
He spoke to the birds, and the birds spoke back,
unimaginable secrets, unattainable knowledge,
his shopping list a Shakespearian sonnet,
his slipper a cat, his dog a pillow.
Flags fluttering were monogrammed handkerchiefs.
The road into town was a rain-fed river.
There he was, mostly, a man beside himself.
Who supposed the impossible, always the optimist.
Who told us the sun would come up tomorrow,
and we believed in him, and we were happy.
Musing on opinion and belief, reality and fantasy.