This isn't it; this is reflections of light on a side view mirror,
Shadows of swaying trees on the wall,
Echoes of the full orchestra's song;
Ringing like reverb in an empty hall.
I have seen tall buildings & obelisks & pillars
Stretch out to touch it but they don't,
And I've seen us replicas & minor actors
Think our roles are leading as we flaunt.
Foolish is the one who claims to have the wisdom
For this is just an image & we know nothing at all,
A sage is but a quester & doesn't have the answer;
All what he's read is chapters, but the story is a whole.
There's nothing I can do now but be still & look above,
And stare quietly at His painting that I long to be part of.
