Ginnunga

A poem about mental myopia

The sacred in the profane,

the profane in the sacred.

Two halves

of a larger

whole; unity.

But a black hole

of dissention 

for those

of a myopic

persuasion.

On the perimeter

of your event horizon.

The occasion:

confusion.

"How?"

(Good question.)  But,

this side

does not wait

for an answer.

At least,

not one not

to their liking.

And their like,

not liking

those that answer

the question?

Now lost

on polarities,

unreconciled

extremities,

spectrum

at opposite

ends, no halfway--

gap.