The first thing you notice is your point of view:
that you have one,
and that it is narrow.
Everything is funneled in your direction,
in angles and cones,
and you seem to be looking from a great height
or a great depth,
far removed from everything.
Instead of seeing all, being everywhere,
you are there,
in the center of the universe,
looking out from a mobile head,
and focussing on only one thing at a time.
It is quite sad, comparatively,
only seeing the outsides of things,
and only the sides of things facing you,
and only while you look at them.
It could make you think you are special, for one thing,
because the world turns when you turn your head,
and because everywhere you go,
the center of the universe moves with you.
Also, everything changes depending on how you look at it,
which is confusing.
And you are very small.
But your eyes are magic.
They see things whether they are open or closed.
You can look through them and see things around you,
or you can look into them and see your dreams of things;
or you can turn them a certain way and see feelings inside you.
So, that’s cool.
Even though you are there, in one place,
you may feel lost,
because you are separate.
You’ve never been in one place,
at one time.
And you don’t remember why you are there and not everywhere else,
and you don’t know why it is now,
and why time is linear,
because when you decided to come here,
you saw time as a picture,
and the picture moved;
and the dim remnant of your thinking
can’t think that way,
and is stuck in now.
And it hurts,
this not remembering.