Know us all

Story time

I know something you don’t know.

I’ll tell you though.

There’s only one way to know.

It’ll take time to show.

Otherwise you’ll never know.

Once there was a man who became everyone he ever met.

In an introductions turned to reflections in a second sense.

Hello could be deadly when he met the best gun in the west.

Draw he says but the artist he met suggested fountain pens.

The man took his talents to a dark room with no windows.

He didn’t make a sound at first, his heart was up in his throat.

Life alone was not his goal instead he met a lot of folk.

So now he wonders how to introduce himself to zero.

He hopes a door will open soon, expose him to the new.

How long has he been standing in this room, this empty room.

He’s waiting for a savior that can take him from this tomb.

Change himself into another stranger just to soothe.

Cumbersome is trust because its seldom.

He can’t hide himself in pleasantries or warm a welcome.

At last he hears himself and what he tells himself he tells him.

You were never meant to be a selfish one, a seller.

You could be the rain that made umbrellas open helpful.

All you had to say is ‘hello stranger, can I help you?’

And then you learn their ways and form a wave of something special.

Why hide away when acting brave was always your directive?

I don’t know what to say.

I’m barely used to introspective.

I thought I was the same as everyone, we’re all in trenches.

So when the rain falls on myself, I sense collective.

We are every body ever met.

Except our selves then.