Can you see me, a suggested expression,
one that does’t expect any reaction,
except to say,
for I am of another dimension.
It is in the faces of our population,
the happy troubadour in position,
the contemplative activist,
they’re all in it
to suggest a mind has imagination.
Yet why write songs about a flower’s illumination,
is it to pretty the subversion,
that piece of our lives,
we tend to ignore,
we walk away,
only to later suggest we are under observation.
We design ourselves upon the brink of a nation,
all of us a part of the imposition,
that sacred knowledge,
the world exists together,
sometime forgetting the notion of compassion.