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Cognitive Dissidents



How far from yourself are you?
How near? How nearly?
What if the self is a measure
of the distance and the closeness
simultaneously?

Of what I saw I could speak,
or remain silent.
To the world the choice was the same,
but to me, it was everything.

To know the wind, don't look for the wind:
look for what is moved by it.
The mind, too.

I have seen the tiniest fraction of the tiniest portion—
how rich! how grand! how intricate it was!

Not everything lends itself to synthesis.

All poems are written and copyrighted by Michael C. Rush.
None may be republished or repurposed without permission.