As Professors James and Lewis said, each
For a different reason, we humans always
Get it all backwards, never understand
What are our causes or our effects.
I know I am praying if I’m on my knees,
Know I am sad if I’m crying: the tears
Come first, the feelings later..
Perhaps, as Carl Jung knew, we see inside
Out. Perhaps we live on the inner
Surface of a hollow Earth
Where light bends to fill our vision,
Where the farther we look into our center,
The more we see, worlds, stars, galaxies,
Back to where it seems to have begun.
But beneath our feet is not
Unending rock, instead, another
Universe, filled with strange
Beings who live by the paradoxes
Of a looking glass through which
We see darkly.
Beings are, in fact, our selves,
Interfacing two infinities, living
On the outside of our hollow
Sphere, not knowing who or what
We might become if we ever
Hatched, struggling out of our
Cocoons, unfolding the wings we
Perhaps were always meant to have.
In other words, it does not
Matter how large the universe
Is if the gods dwell not out
There, but inside here, in that
Center we can never see
All the way into, for, as all
Saints have always known,
There is no end of room. .