If we knew

just out of sight

adjusted our eyes to the scope more clearly

fashioned on the sea's horizon

out there

back here

where supposition cripples our perspective

into ignoring the greater potential

we should only paint our eyes black in the knowing dark

and our lips as the light pink flush of blood in the cheek

the spiral strands of it running from that nothingness

back there

the air we breathe in originating with the spinning biosphere swing

the clouds upon the surface bubble

a reflection of the moon or anything held by wind current

only an idea in eyes refusing the headspinning

of a brief carnival ride