How is a rational man to feel
when feelings
know no reason, 

when the human heart,
he knows, is deceitful
above all things? 

But what if the problem is him:
a blindness to the reality
of a mystical universe, 

a mystery that evokes
in him not awe,
but emptiness in his heart?

Is his quest in vain,
a man without sight,
lost in a gallery of Van Gogh’s?