Sensations Invented Poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar

It is so clear,
What is here!
What is near,
And appears.
Regardless of those,
Who choose to listen...
With opened ears.

It is apparent,
As the feeling in one's fingertips.
Even if some are numb to these senses...
The implementation done,
Has been imprinted.
Without effective lament.

Sensations invented,
Are meant to be left as sentiments.
Emotions within to mend with a willingness...
Are absent of attention.
At least hints intended,
Are not given to them.

It is so clear,
What is here!
What is near,
And reappears.
Regardless of those,
Who choose to listen...
With opened ears.

It is apparent,
As the feeling in one's fingertips.
Even if some are numb to these senses...
The implementation done,
Has been imprinted.
Without effective lament.

And we,
The people...
Receive beliefs under steeples.
Although through a peephole we peek.
To behold as told!
With full comrepension,
We desperately seek.

Prisoners of limited knowledge told.
To live with wishes to fulfill.
But then to become victims,
To that which we do not know!

It is so clear,
What is here!
What is near,
And appears.
Regardless of those,
Who choose to listen...
With opened ears.
Dismissing an acceptance,
That could be generated but disappears.