We read the story of a man
Blind from birth... but who
Had his sight, by miracle,
Restored at 52.

Now he could see perfectly;
It nearly did undo him.
The world was an enigma,
His vision useless to him.

He had no depth perception;
Nothing matched its name;
No face conveyed emotion,
Each countenance the same.

For decoding visual data,
He lacked the crucial clues,
Having missed a lifetime
Of a priori cues.

Overwhelmed by white noise
In a tsunami of light,
His world, depicted once in sound,
Became a silent night.

Measuring the visible
Made science once seem clever,
But in “reality” the visible
Is such a tiny sliver.

Might we better have had organs for
A Dark universe inspection?
Where Dark energy and Dark matter rule,
Is light a misdirection?

Egotistic specks of star
Bespark the velvet night;
The lords of Darkness take no note
Of feeble, firefly light.

May five senses be too many
In a Darkness universe?
If naught’s available to sense,
Is extra sense a curse?

The blind worm in his burrow
With a single sense entrusted
Has a feeling for the Darkness
And is perfectly adjusted.

But once there lived a creature
With an organ in its brain
Attuned to sense mendacity.
It quickly went insane.

Others of its species
Had an ear for ironies,
And some could sniff out paradox,
And some saw similes.

Its brain became a frenzy
Of super-sense confusion;
It saw a world of metaphor,
Hyperbole, allusion.

You could hear it in the wilderness
Croaking its “ideas”
In strange alliterations, puns,
And onomatopoeias.

If five senses was an overload,
Imagine eight or ten;
“Visions” paralyzed the wretch...
Religion, science, Zen.

Like the dodo, overspecialized,
This thing began to think...
A nervous system run amok.
It swiftly went extinct.

It had a vision it called “wisdom”
Struggling mightily to know it.
Darkness is perfect now without
This firefly known as “poet.”