John Anderson Poet Free verse

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The Bliss of Seeing Meaning Never Meant

I can’t see the world as it is.
For I see it through my weary, teary eyes.
Painted dreams shadowed on tainted walls,
It's the truths revealed that I despise.

I built this house on illusion songs,
Called the shadows in the mirrors home.
Crowded out the dog-whistling hordes,
With the bliss of unquestioned ignorance.

Sweet illusions whisper with silver tongues.
Shielding me from the pain of knowing
my mistakes are etched, not feigned.
Reading meaning that was never there.

I take echoes as tender words.
I see mirrors as open gates.
I follow dreams on flawed maps,
To land on strange shores, I adore.

In the fog, each lantern shines.
Bright as stars, I long to hold.
But once the wind clears the mist.
There's no track back to bliss dismissed.

So who cares if I got the meaning wrong.
That was not what you meant at all.
I'll keep to what it meant to me.
It’s the one my heart chose to know.

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