You look at me as if what you see
should make you mean something more
to you than what you are. I assure you –
I shift from one foot to the other,
lean into you, try to see myself in your eyes –
whatever substance of character,
whatever validation of yourself you seek
has nothing to do with me. You are alone –
my eyes are tired, my vision fights against bleariness –
and only by yourself can you find who you are,
no matter what you may believe I can show you –
I feel the strain in my muscles, relax them as best I can,
allow my arms to flex, feel the cool under my palms –
No one has ever found what he is essentially,
what at core he stands for, by looking anywhere
other than within –
I close my eyes, try to decide how best to look in there,
whatever that entails –
Self-examination is the only way to discover
the stuff you are made of. Seeking yourself by reflecting
on how you perceive yourself elsewhere is pointless –
I am 67 years old and time is running fast. How do I
find myself still wondering about my purpose
after all this time? –
Whatever you see in me is only really what you see in you –
My legs cramp from the strain of standing so hard
in one place, the same place I’ve stood in all my years
up until now –
To search for your make-up, your value anywhere
other than within yourself is pointless –
I hear you, but I’m a million miles away now, running
everywhere except ahead, still searching me out
for anything I can find before the finish line.
Lanning Lee 