Prism Of Sorts Poem by ENOCH JOHN

My mind leaps out to the metaphorical wind that
Blows its fury on a world that's change resistant;
But change still comes sometimes wrapped in its bundle-full of mystery
Or uncertainty and unpredictability.

The world is always caught with its pants down,
For even the one who fancies himself the Oracle,
Can scarcely tell with complete accuracy,
That what he sees for some uncertainty clouds his vision.