Do our senses play tricks on us,
Make fantasies seem real,
As all the things we think we felt,
Are they really what we feel,
Though we use our eyes to see,
We see much better with our hearts,
The mind blurs the images which we see,
Yet we can’t see, when its role starts.
If dreams become all we see,
Is it what mind or heart projects,
Or is it that reality,
Is a thing our eyes reject,
A mind is made of many thoughts,
At times, controlling what we see,
With the heart the center of our being,
That glimpses being free.
If memory becomes our sight,
What might we see tomorrow,
Are all the possible sights then gone,
As we’re blinded by our sorrow,
Someone blind still sense things,
Unaffected by the light,
With the heart the only thing we have,
That possesses sensible sight.
With my heart I surely see
That this heart needs you near,
And additionally to seeing you,
It’s your voice I need to hear,
I see you when my eyes are closed,
I see you in the night,
It’s you this heart holds on to,
With its sensible sight.