Rimbaud Thought He Had Invented Synaesthesia

The difference and the sameness all in one,

The dance, the music and the poetry,

Their magic searching to forget the sun

Or hide it in a moon above the sea

Upon an exoplanet, blue as pink,

And desert as an ocean lacking salt.

The steps are different, long in stride, in slink

Or short, unending or preserved in halt,

And yet the same.  The notes though brief or long

In God’s eyes are the same, though low or high—

The same because they all create their song,

Though movement, sound, or smells they snag God’s eye.

  His eye can hear a melody, his ear

    Can see the tango, poetry as spear.

~ Phillip Whidden