Mystify me.
Wrap me in impossible paradoxes
Confuse me with words
I will never understand
And call it poetry.
Make me see
What I already know
Make me feel
What I cannot
Make me think
A thought I have never thought
And tell me it was the first time I did so.
Confuse my senses
So that I believe you
And call it truth.
I will never know
The difference.
*
The truth is that you can't be trusted.
The truth is that you are a stranger.
The truth is that I have been sold a lie.
A strange country is within me.
The stranger who speaks your language is me.
This is my home, he says.
This is my water.
About the Creator
John Welford
John was a retired librarian, having spent most of his career in academic and industrial libraries.
He wrote on a number of subjects and also wrote stories as a member of the "Hinckley Scribblers".
Unfortunately John died in early July.
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