Dated 12-January-2009

My existence is pockets of clarity
Opening in the fog of my life
Glimpses of the world as it is
Not as I view it.
Scenes not hidden
By the backdrops I push into view
Sweet
Simple
Unfettered
Free to be what it truly is.

I have no idea why the caged bird sings
We all sing
We are all in cages
We all sing
Though we sometimes forget the words
We all sing
Though sometimes out of tune
We all sing

But mostly we hear others
Their songs
Their melodies
Their rhythms
And sour notes
Forgetting our own song
Our own words
Our own lives
Ourselves
My existence is pockets of clarity
Or maybe it’s all just fucked