You Have To Stretch Your Hands Comments

This is a poem of Realization. You and the eponymous Monsignor are in a place of beauty, where golden things shine. But you realize your perception of things is distorted. You feel you can touch the ceiling but you cannot. It's way above you. This seems to occur just before you discover you are lost, or at least walking on a blind path.

I'm surprised the Monsignor joined you on this journey inside the cave. He strikes me as a very cautious man not given to such gratuitous entertainment. Besides he is so cool, ironic, dispassionate, the messy worlds of nature would seem to hold no allure for him. I may be wrong. I may have misread the MONTSIGNOR. But this seemed closer to the Poet Seer's type of exploit. But I caught up in this claustrophobic atmosphere and felt relieved to leave it behind.

You have to reach out with those OTHER hands, the grasp of the soul is infinite and depthless. I love this.

very fine, I like it, thanks, Please rea my poems and comment.