Dunno

Dunno, wonder who does tho; wish it were me, 

but I get the picture, the branch I’m on isn’t the 

Tree o’ Life; & as if I’d b’ that privileged anyway 

Yet there’s real sense expecting scenery bigger 

than th’ twigs occluding your view; myopia has 

ways of seducing th’ who you really need t’ be 

But like I say, dunno, just guessing whose idea 

will grow into the universe where my branch is, 

tho it isn’t a great probability, unless I’m into it  

And to be let loose I’ll need brush away those 

leaves claiming we’re same time & dimension; 

a once-freed-direction isn’t forever-down-only 

© 9 June 2018, I. D. Carswell