Mirage In The Distance

“Who’re you really” the Sage asked again,

that look upon his face

 

“It depends on who I’m looking at,”

I said, his eyes now glazed

 

“I’m never just one thing as you’ve heard often

in my songs

 

“Like the weather I am prone to change,

from right—to oft times wrong”

 

“But what of your essence” he asked again,

“the core of who you are”

 

“My essence a myth that plagues your mind,”

dimensionally scarred

 

“If your eyes were a laser with vision to burn,

you still would only see

 

“A mirage in the distance, wrapped in a mystery

—pretending to be me”

 

(Bryn Mawr Pennsylvania: April, 2020)

 

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