To be able to trust your eyes–that’s a great blessing.
To believe that the pane of glass in your upstairs window
Is in fact transparent, that the narrow
Winding streets seeming to lie beyond it
Are not a reflection of something narrow
And dark within you, just a winding passage
That will lead, eventually, to an open square.
To believe you’re entitled, when you reach it,
To sit on a bench in the sun by the marble fountain,
That you haven’t come to envy the beautiful,
To belittle it, to despoil it. No.
You’re here to muse on the possibility
It can serve you as an example,
As a lesson in taking pleasure in what you are,
In giving pleasure by not withholding.
Maybe this gracious self is the person
Your friends have noticed from the beginning.
Your inability to observe it so far
Needn’t mean they’re deluded, just that their distance
Provides them the chance to see you whole.
Maybe whatever you need to do
To deserve their loyalty you’ve done already.
If you then do more, it could mean your heart
Has committed itself to overflowing
And you’ve chosen to let it have its way.