These strangers are too much inside me
With compassionate stares
And opening-night eyes, what form
I have is nothing before theirs.
They say it's only a mirror
Moving like a pool,
It's anything I want it to be,
These faces blurred like jewels.
There is no place outside myself;
I'm the alien one
Offering some half-gone crumbs
From half-forgotten homes,
With nothing I can offer in response.
It's what they call an answer, one hand
Clapping, the question asked
To its end,
The back I turned the only kind of yes,
The no of getting lost in oneness
Narrows to a point where we disappear
In what we have to share.
