never seems to be,
Although it may
break the skin
Of what before
we couldn't say.
We may even
choose again,
With new brands
of whims,
That we recognize ...
from somewhere.
There was a book before
there was truth
We try to find once more;
it didn't answer, didn't explain.
It just had a being
that changed us.
But the change
has long since passed
And we've forgotten
what it was
And we pick up every book
to try to recall,
But it's only something new
that isn't real and isn't true.
We're hardened like
a piece of stone
Still waiting to be
thrown.
