Who What When Where Why How? Poem by Benjamin Lee Hopper

Who are those whom truly know,
fully relieved from questioning,
that they can clearly see
their whole presence of being
as it's seen universally?

What about the fragmented
figments of imagination
gazed in one's own reflection
from a mirror on the wall?

When aren't they seeing one's Self
receiving flights of idle refractions,
filtered through shattered glass,
charring colorful misconceptions
onto gray matter casts of self belief?

Where could such delusions
successfully harbor shammed sails
on the hole-riddled hull of Id
and still remain free from Ego,
the sure fragmentation of one's soul
on a sinking ship in a salted sea?

Why am I thus what I can't perceive
but instead am the summation
of discrete judgments and love
projected by those onlooking?

How does our psychology
develop so deeply divided
through the colored cranial gates
that lead us to our carnal minds?