I am for the others an outer world.

The others are for me an outer world.

Where are the inner worlds of ours?

***

How does it influence you, what difference does it make for you

the infinity of the Universe? And the fly,

creeping on your leg?

***

The time passes through our heads and as if with a stick

stirs the waters of knowledge – dense and sticky

at the bottom and clear at the surface. Thus

myths come to light,

visions become tangible

and what’s been lurking

in the cavities of our darkest premonitions

emerges on the sunlit shores to live with us

its different existence. But as if

we are yet not ready to accept

that faith contains what mind is to cognize. We think

we are in outer Space, in unexplored territories,

facing inexplicable phenomena,

when in fact we are doing nothing but proving the visions

we wake up every morning with,

nothing but verifying the factuality of all the figments

we’ve been growing into manhood with

under our Christmas trees for millennia now. Everything

that Mind is at pains to prove is on hand already

in our myths and the knowledge has no other grounds,

nothing  beyond them.

***

With such a diligence the thread seller labours,

so seriously treats his trade, as if

he is about to do whatever the surgeon is going to do.

Doesn’t he look ridiculous, the thread seller,

compared to the surgeon? And the surgeon –

doesn’t he look ridiculous compared to the God’s shepherd?

And the latter – isn’t he totally ridiculous compared to God?

And God – isn’t He a ridiculous God if compared to the thread seller,

who with such a diligence labours?