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Dissect the Transcendent.

Intrusions
of a third person
perspective breaking
into my mind again.

A wide, clear eye
from up on high
looking down
on all of us clowns,
detached, compassionate,
documenting the downfall.

Everything looks
different from that distant
vantage point.
The formerly familiar
becomes foreign;
the mundane
turns absurd.

Feeble hands
grasp for words:
trap this in amber,
dissect the transcendent.

For it seems to be
a bigger part,
a truer part of me

yet so lost to me.

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