Flying With The Flies Poem by Mihaela Pirjol

Fibrous six-legged flies,
hectically, and anxiously searching
upon the squared pattern
of the table-cloth:
they seem infected
by some strange narcotics,
which energise them
with a ceaseless commotion: —
what are they looking for? —do they know?
—nothing visible to the human-eye!
—do they possess some extra sensorial
qualities unknown to humans?
—are they of superior intelligence,
eclipsing our pretended one?
their unpredictability,
their acrobatic motions,
and contortive legs,
are exhausting my observance—
there is no logic in their action!
and thus, they are defeating
my human rationality;
yet, somehow, half-unaware,
—I envy them! —for they have wings;
for they can fly
to whichever place they wish;
whilst myself, I am confined
within this body with no wings to fly:
but I can fly—I can fly with the wings
of my imagination!
—exploring realms
of far more fantastic beauty!
where no rationality nor analysis
and comprehension are necessary;
for the Bliss transgresses
the confinement of reasoning:
for Beauty can only be perceived
without the mind, without the heart—
but through the human-spirit.