THE UNKNOWN

At the edge of knowledge, the unknown begins;

Buried within knowledge, the unknown lies;

Masked by knowledge, the unknown is disguised.

In a small boat to peer over the side

At a pond’s depth when the surface is calm

And see nothing beyond a few inches at most.

In despair to raise head and eyes towards

The sky is no more than a shallow glance

Of sun on what appears to be evident  

Is no more than a blinding, superficial glare.

The learned lead to mountains of the unknown;

Chisel away at the feet of the behemoths;

Climb as high as footholds allow. 

The learned lead to the abyss of the unknown;

Stand at the brink and watch the bottomless pit grow larger;

Throw their tokens into the bowels of the earth;

Take soundings; and postulate.

For all that is known is never as large as the unknown

Rapidly outgrows knowledge;

Discards it like an exoskeleton or a cocoon;

Emerges in different forms; multiplies and expands

Beyond anything a human mind can begin to understand.

© cmheuer, 2016

IN THE WIND

Voices whisper in the empty spaces between winter tree trunks

            and above un-leaved branches.

Voices shout in canyons between glass and steel towers

            and along alleys carved out of brick walls.

Voices throw their breath across ocean waves

            and into subterranean caverns.

Audiences flit in and out among the murmurs and the oratory.

They hear odd reverberations and flutter in response.

Their backs bend against the force of the speaker,

Braced for percussive gusts and winds

That sound out a brief space of time,

Tumble dead leaves, and whistle around corners.

Pine needles fan out-- jostle the ones alongside,

Catching the resonance with their nimble fingers,

Strumming along with thin air

In a flight of fancy on a clear day,

While vine stalks sway back and forth as if there is a rhythm

In the ebb and flow of an invisible tide,

Deep and shallow breaths are cast off,

Like water from the shake of long, wet hair--

Like discarded old clothes, thin and ragged.

Twigs fall to the ground; tin cans skip down the street;

Waves carry away the sand; and caverns echo

The sough of the wind.

© cmheuer, 2016