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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