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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