And, even when I do my thing,
I ask, “On whose behalf?”
And, like a joyous mountain spring,
My spirit’s heard to laugh.
For, even if I were a one
Who acted on the sly,
I’d still be shining like the sun
Against a boundless sky.
It’s just that, when I think too much,
I feel time’s icy blast,
And, not until I’m back in touch,
Am I aware what’s passed.
And then I know it makes no sense;
There neither was nor is an fence.
Photo by Ian Stauffer on Unsplash
