If you saw me writing,
you'd see the tears spilling,
in between the lines and where
the pen happens to land today...
If you saw me writing,
you'd see me as if appearing
in some opened up self-indulgent
fugue exposing all my sadness...
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If you saw me writing,
You like me I would have no knowing,
I couldn't write it at the time, because,
I was still mostly lost, unknown even to me.
If you saw me writing,
You'd know now this was the wandering path over and through,
the one I bequeath to you and those still lost until we are renewed anew.