Copies Of You That Are Different From Me Poem by James McLain

You exist in more than one place at the same time.
Green to one is as yellow to another and orange is red.
Verily you think that here what God is,
thus he is not what you think somewhere else.

Covered by purple snow is each man's love, of a woman's bush
transparent leaves,
if a man is a tree then there unseen each child Wait's.

Thus wisdom can come and wisdom can go hurried along
by the wind one can't see.
Is this your religion, your blind faith, your faith in a thing
that's not seen?
What of those without eye's that can see?

You exist in many different forms, and the Forms are solid and
need space.
Wisdoms true knowledge or intelligence is but one's ability to
grasp like a child at the world made of thing's.
Unless one is born damaged and thus cannot truly think.

Verily of you I would ask, flawed circles that are flawed
are not round, imperfect copies of you other's found.
Thus man is flawed and being thus flawed knows nothing else.
360 degrees is a perfect circle if round, did not make one think.
Until long ago when one did.

Form of form, before space could exist, verily do they whom
said it did before anyone could.
One universe one that rests on prior knowledge, if knowledge
begot wisdom then wisdom was here.