Seeing The Self Poem by Landon Pulmano

A canvas in its own right
But no paint or pastel is found
Nor crayons of many hues
Touch the flesh,
Wrinkled by the journey
To a predestined place.
And eyelids blink blue blankets and pink
Variations of traits run across
Generations, stumble and stride.

Inner winds swirl in all directions,
Carrying the people and places
The stories and faces
Past the sea of materiality,
Into a vast, expanding landscape
That only the mind's eye can see.

See. See two parts of reality:
Uncontrollable conscious and
What has yet to be the
Simplicity or complexity of a line
Sketching the distant reality of
A dream waiting to unfold,
Like a bud wrapped in a chain.
And the key, you and destiny struggle to hold.