how to know of the unknown
when the unknown is not out there
but undoubtedly in me.
I have declared myself to be
and as such, have known of myself
by a very particular method unto me.
that method denies me access to the unknown.
for I hold myself to be separate by every measure
and in doing so, claim the unknown to be out there
separate from me and the way I know.
the rest of the world knows around me
but by a different method than mine.
I am a Newtonian versionary,
and it is all quantum newsy to me.
but I only take in, in the way I know how to.
my method of know is inclusively exclusive,
for I only know how to know as separate from me
and I maintain a level of knowledge
that keeps it that way.
so I know of medicine but not healing.
I know of luck but not timing.
I know of miracles but not magic.
I know of soulmates but as distinct from me.
I know of a god but only in a conclusion stated.
I know of my species as mythfully superior
and blindly lead on to believe that is so.
I know of the planet as usage but not in replenishment.
I know of decision making based on false framing.
I know about trust and assume it is all about others.
I know happiness can have no illusion of cause.
but I am up against it when it comes to the unknown
in the way that I know, I prescribe for a perceptual style.
my range is limited upward, wide, and in.
I can’t go below, beneath, or behind or within
without baggage catering to my knowing style.
I really don’t embrace to immerse.
I come face to face to attend, to observe and conclude.
for me, knowing is a false front, always biased
by cognitive instructions of mindful awareness.
my vision only leads me to versions, mindfully so.
unknown haunts me as my separateness is there from.
it gives me measure as shadow in the light.
it gives me my words as grains of sand on a brain-beach.
it gives me billboards of mundane sensory overload.
my know is a snowflake in this ‘the winter of this century’.
and the unknown . . . it seems, is my heritage,
though unknowably so . . .