No Pattern

It isn't every day you learn
a new thing, get fresh insights
of yourself. Today
I did, the place unlikely for
epiphanies. A ladies' room,
tri-color tile the focal point,
and while I'm sitting there,
my eyes start searching for a pattern
where no pattern is, and I'm
thinking that I might go mad
if I had need to sit there long and
stare at tiles-without-meaning.
Why? What masochistic
tile man teases you
with almost-patterns:
one-three-two, one-three-one..one?
Don't all tile men know you
lay them out before
you spread cement,
design a pattern that is
pleasing to the eye?
But why do I assume
he did not do exactly that?
What's pleasing to one set
of eyes may not be pleasing
to the next, and I am just
a customer these wall tiles
were not laid to please.
A silly thing of no importance,
but I think I see a pattern
deeper down that's not a pretty
picture of my soul. How many
times do I resist or judge or
criticize because my eyes are
looking for what pleases me,
when mine are clearly not the
eyes that always matter.


(c) Ellen Gillette, 2015