Rhiannon
Bluelighter
You will hardly know who I am
or what I mean
Because I myself do not know
who I am.
I search my mind,
trying to grasp, hold to
what I believe.
Never coming up empty,
yet I feel as though I have.
The black and white mix to grey.
An endless map of one way streets,
all forking off in two directions.
I choose one for an instand,
but cannot turn back now.
I painfully continue.
Myriads of street signs so close,
they nearly blend into one.
Some signs, larger than others,
catch my eye,
yet so do the ones on the other side.
I walk straight ahead,
separating myself further
from each road.
The signs become blurred
and I become lost.
I know not where to go.
or what I mean
Because I myself do not know
who I am.
I search my mind,
trying to grasp, hold to
what I believe.
Never coming up empty,
yet I feel as though I have.
The black and white mix to grey.
An endless map of one way streets,
all forking off in two directions.
I choose one for an instand,
but cannot turn back now.
I painfully continue.
Myriads of street signs so close,
they nearly blend into one.
Some signs, larger than others,
catch my eye,
yet so do the ones on the other side.
I walk straight ahead,
separating myself further
from each road.
The signs become blurred
and I become lost.
I know not where to go.
