To what degree do we
Depend upon our senses keen
For information gleaned at random
From the world around us?
Or, are all images of life
Brought forth from some interior well
And fitted to our tingling ears,
Our eyes enraptured with delight?
Perhaps each outward visitation
Has a corresponding symbol
Locked within our inner selves,
And when the two are joined
A smile of recognition
Spreads across our phantom minds.
©2012 Michael Fraley
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