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)