Well, you could say I’ve created this image of myself
fragile and wavering, shaking and unsure
I walk to the grocery store, self-conscious with my hands in my pockets.
I try not to look at the sun too long.
I realize that I will never know what it’s like to be anyone but myself.
I find peace in this realization.
I see the old man walking in front of me with his hands in his pockets.
Like me, he walks with his eyes raised to the sky.
I hide behind what I say
I hide behind my thoughts, my smile, my hands, my habits, my past
This ego of mine,
it tells me that I must distinguish myself
make a name for myself
But none of that means anything.
What it all comes down to is…
The stars, my goodness the stars,
they tell us who we are.
The moon, the magical mystical moon,
it acquaints us with the rhythm of the world.
The wind, whistling whispering wind,
it tells us all we need to know.
Our dreams, how lucky we are to dream,
they let us see within.