I am never sure when
Today I am alone and the whisper
that my soul makes as it scrapes
against my bones is the only
sound for miles.
I will listen to this silence for
awhile, till I’m driven to
desperation. I am like a clam
in a golden box. Who can tell
what is real and what isn’t?
I live with one foot in each
world, sometimes I am confused.
Perhaps nothing is real, perhaps
I have imagined what I perceive as reality.
Perhaps there is nothing, only me,
perhaps I have created everything,
it radiates out from me.
Perhaps when I reach out my hand to
feel their substance I will reach
through their nothingness. These
things happen. I am never
by Cher Bibler