thoughts, feelings, patterns
traveled and worn by those before me
to what extent
am I a conglomerate of picky
habits picked by those before me
am I sure that's not all
that I am? my interests, habits,
and beliefs, nothing of my control
all the way up to this word
arbitrary choices
under this patterned umbrella
blown away by the wind
exposing chaotic
torrential, drowning rain
am I nothing, without you
where yes becomes no
and why changes how
can I swim? am I forced
to construct my own patterned umbrella
on the patterns worn by those before me
YOU ARE READING
graphic art
Poetry"If one does not understand a person, one tends to regard him as a fool." - Carl Jung
