The Difficulty of the Thing
What you are is what you are.
And me? That’s yet another thing.
I will change several times
before the week has run,
and shall not know which me is me,
or what I’ll be tomorrow.
Don’t think of me as a ride
that can carry you to your destination.
The roads I follow are rough and turning,
threading through forest and mountains
and deep under ground.
I will be here but I will not be here.
I will always be traveling
even as I sit alone,
staring at what you can not see,
trying hard to see it myself,
understand it, and make it presentable
to a blind and deaf world.