ink on the page
is an actor on stage
but words aren’t always true
like a guitar slightly out of tune
metaphors and analogies
painting with imagery
can we create
or only imitate
reduplicate?
is choice an illusion
because everything is determined
or am I just lost in confusion
man instills meaning and value
but what does value mean?
are we all alone
or are we a team?
what have I done?
where have I been?
what happens in places that I’ll never see?
what is the fundamental substance of reality?
where are you now?
are you asleep on your bed?
I’m sick of all this time alone in my head
shades of grey
no right or wrong
finding comfort and hope
in ink and in song
will we ever find the answers?
or have they been here all along?
