 |
| Chandeliers, New South Head Road, Edgecliff |
| The image is a blur that sways into and out of focus While my eye dances to the mesmerising rhythm Of its extended lens, endeavouring to transmit Data to my addled brain to discern The actual from the pretend, the real from the reflected . To be able to fully see, sight becomes inadequate My brain requires powers of thought to aid perception. But to which facet do I direct my eye, and seeing such confusion Is the flash of white brilliance sufficient to discriminate The reflected image from the original, or Does light in all its colours and minute rays Deceive my sight and preclude my brain From knowing its full form. My mind from perceiving its true nature? Are there scrambled images That cannot be known through sight alone? Arrayed hieroglyphs that defeat our eyes Demanding more perception than mere sight? Is a picture worth a thousand words? |
