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

sure when.

by Cher Bibler