SublimeI'm not insightful.Insightful implies that what I write, what I do is meaningful, understanding true nature.None of us can truly understand.My poetry, nothing but a shadow of the true writers, the insighful.My art, nothing but an illusion of the true artists, the insighful.My mind attempts to come up with answers.My heart fights against the mind.True insighfulness is not called upon,But given in a flash of brilliance and clarity."Sublime" is the word used to describe this.But what is the sublime?Is it a spasm of mind and heart combined?Is it true insight?And can those of us not blessed with natural insightSuddenly