If the observer alters
what is observed,
my coterie of carers
who never take their eyes off me
have changed me
out of all recognition.
I am lost in the outskirts of a maze.
Unlike Theseus who required a thread
so he could retrace his safe steps
to the outside world,
the outside world has dispersed me
so without a thread to guide me
I will never return
to the centre of my being.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment