a color so faint
an image so scarcely recalled
it's so simple to see
that it gets so hard to look
down beyond the reflection
into the water at the bottom
should I perceive everything underneath what i drink
or observe everything inbetween this image and my head
looking anywhere but where I'm so used to seeing
the reflecting hero of our story
the fool loved for innocent and a simple mind
But I reach into the faintest color
the clear pool that holds me in it's hands
and cradles me, but only what you could see
I wonder, am i so hollow that I float?...

down to the bottom, what am I grasping
a new wave of feeling?
a new numbing cold?
somewhat different from what is normal and familiarised
with the eager addicted strand of flesh stringing to fragile bone?
is it an illusion?,
do you see something totaly different, like i do?,

never one to judge
I don't point out all our differences this time
no, not this time, i swear
I'm never one to judge
why should I be handed the same cup
those before, those after, what taste would come of that?
difference keeps a strand of sanity to the thin structures of matter
I'm never one to judge
but why must the image still remain the same to me?,
should not my cup be painted dark like the rose
to greet the lips that lovingly speak there own harmonous word?
I'm reaching into the mirror
not to judge, not to change the constructs
only reaching for underlining truth
I'm reaching into the mirror
never to judge
recent endeavors,
I've come to hunger
chasing the tail of a clever and elusive fox
to feed my hunger
i chase the tail of a creature, a creature named 'why'.

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