If I could stand away from myself
And look at me, I think I would be amazed.
I fear I’ve gone a little crazy.
I sit alone in cafes pondering mysteries.
I hear voices where none should be.
“Follow me, follow me,” they say.
When the weather changes,
I read the clouds for messages.
Every person passing me on the street
is an omen. Most of all, I have seen
how all of us are one,
Wrapped in the same mystery.
When I am cut, you bleed.
Now this sight is stripped from me.
Now I cry. I weep. I want to write down
What I saw. I am an error,
I am lost. What is given can after all
Be taken away. I want it back.
What’s the meaning of meaning?