Proof

each day a proof, in somesuch thing
this this game we play is indeed a game,
and plays to win.

in each word hear, every tone - a sound,
takes me home now, so friends and family come round,
to speak truth to me.

am I alone? Or somesuch thing?
Is there such a thing? Only I nag so incessantly,
pick at details.

They sweep me broadly, their brushes
and stories of brushes, sweep me clean away.
My mirrors were apparently so very dusty!

YOU are proof, reading this, thinking.
that my words have little meaning, perhaps nothing.
Yes, perhaps thinking nothing,


Cor, 2000