More Than Eyes

This is the news which has been brought to my face:
I cannot unfilter the seeming world from out of my breaking mind.
My feeling does not know what to do with this,
But I can hear the butter melting under the safest flesh of my understood past.
This is known. This is me.
What kind of power would it take to unleash the fall of water from above,
That water which can wash away only those knots and occurrences which
Fable belief into the freshest of imagined spheres up above the tangled system of lights
Here on earth?
My waiting has been foretold,
My answer unasked.
How many times should this birth convict me of never having to hold another clear drinking
vessel to the departing sunlight again?
The light which turns and burns above the any glass is that which can be seen by
More than eyes,
More than breath,
Over the face and
Under the place which is lifted up to receive the precious gift of water,
Above,
All over,
All around,
Everywhere.