Twist my reality and throw shadow to my sight.
Burn all the frost and freeze the fire in the fight.
Conquer a chapter
and page through my mind;
question certainty
and seek the vision of the the blind.

The wise fools,
the hopeless braves,
the menacing matchsticks
and lightless days.

Ask your demands kindly,
speak gently in your scream;
state if roots would branches be,
if branches lay beneath the tree -
If sunlight caught the earth reversed
in subterranean monarchy,
would life we know be life undone
if what we think and what we see
were more than sight
and more than us,
yet to us,
moiety.