What is this thing we do always and
Without end, we say no other creature can
Where I say, and when did this arrive?
How was it we first found these secret
Connections, all these understandings?
Was it along that well-worn path between
The house of pleasure and house of pain?
I have to ask myself, would this vase
Feel smooth to my touch if I had no word
For smooth, or touch?
Would the sky still be blue or the grass
Green, if I had no word for blue or green?
Is there a special pattern, a special code,
Or connection in the neural tissues for
Colors or feelings or things like tears?
When I don’t know, I look it up
Sometimes I don’t know where to look
Being lost, not knowing where I am
Has a feeling, being lost feels . . . lost!
What does knowing feel like?