The Face in the Pond Ponders Too

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Patterns found and voices scattered

Images woven in time

Streaming projections of all that had mattered

A film for the soul and the mind

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Outside in, looking off through a mirror

The clay must mold itself

Am I who I think, or is this just delusion

A schizoid collection of self

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What does it mean for meaning to mean

What separates I from all you

Who makes who ask speaker and hearer

The face in the pond ponders too

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And who is it for if not for myself

Whose boundaries are starting to fray

How can I serve an unknowing master

How must I seek out my way

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Trust in yourself for wisdom lies deep

Engrained in our spirit and soul

There are no mistakes, you cannot be lost

For you are invariably whole

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