You Are Vast

It would require an eerie discipline
For any human being to hold
Perfectly consistent opinions,

Given that, in every little village, language
Repeatedly invades the human brain
From so many opposite directions,

And then we words and phrases
Take up our quasicolonial residences
Within your living synapses,

Every one of your bone bowls home
To something like a neighborhood
Of a hundred, hundreds, or thousands

Of perspectives from a few generations,
A few centuries, or a few millenniums,
And who could expect a neighborhood

Of many different points of view, perhaps
Different faiths and tongues, perhaps
Warring factions, to speak with one voice?