The Big Picture

the big picture
is that you can’t even see
the little picture –
nor the nape of your neck
[nor the crook in your arm
for that matter]
can you feel the breeze
of the axe that swung
off a limb of the tree
that is growing out of your shoulder?
I can; I stand behind you,  and man
that thing is like some mad mangrove
as it fingers its way up to sting
your ever-limited psyche – you see
you never can grasp [like the roots
of that tree] all that there is to see
because even an owl who can turn
his head like a lighthouse light
cannot see all at once. And
THAT is the big picture.

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