Benign is the thinking of the micro,
Of the levels of day that stray not
Out of the attention of all.
Zoom out into a greater view
and thinking becomes a chore.
The intricate playings regular
Escape each of our eye.
Yet infatuated are those who linger,
Who revel in the facts of unknown.
Unfortunately though
Doomed are they,
To the displeasure of indefinite unknowing.
Plagued will be the thoughts of the thinker
To try and weave themselves into the woven.
To pick at every crevice in unknowing
and implant themselves into it.
So removed will be the thinker
in his search and want for more.
Whatever he sees will be brushed aside
in a veil of unimportance
Internalized are infernal cries,
For those earnest sighs are common.
Your peripherals may not hold a fuller view
So avert your gaze willingly.
The most comes from small
Than a world full of all.