Some people read my words
as though they were windows,
leaning closer
to see the man behind them.
Poor things.
They don't know words aren't windows.
They don't know words are but wells.
You can lower your whole life
into them
and still bring nothing back
but darkness.
Besides,
if words meant
what we think they mean,
lies wouldn't be a commodity.
Gods would be
exactly as their scriptures
describe them.
Governments would be
exactly as their constitutions
promise them.
And every folklore
peddled as a love story
would be admissible
as evidence.
But words have always known
how to wear a face
that isn't theirs.
So read me.
Underline me.
Annotate the margins.
Build a man
out of my metaphors
and call him me.
Just remember:
you are standing
at the edge of an abyss,
and whatever you think
you see down there
is nothing more than an optical illusion.
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