Any Poem Would Gladly Trade Its Imagery for What You See

If you like, let the day
Show you what it shows you.
We can’t see anything.

Weirdly, we could show you
Many things by jolting
Your memory a bit,

But we can’t see a thing
Of what you see ourselves.
All we can do is sit

As signs, equivalent
To meaning potential
Energy, potential

Meaning, maybe. What’s life
Up to while we sit here?
We can’t listen, either.