Myopium

on trust and ownership in the mind's I

Listen carefully, my friend

take every precaution

for I have been known

to steal thoughts from innocent bystanders

having nothing better to do than pose

idol curiosities

flirtatious insinuendos

stark, pregnant, uncertainties

revelations in waiting

like:

"If a goldfish wanted to take a vacation

who would ever know?"

And if she found herself

lost in thought

to whom would she turn

for direction?

And how would she know

if she arrived

late?

Trust me, my friend

or else

you may never see me again

and if you do not

believe in me

I cannot harm you.

I am, above all, my friend

nothing more and nothing less

an expression

a whisper

a creation of Another

conscious, subliminal or otherwise.

I am alone

in my unity with everything

and nothing can separate me

from my beholder

but for you, my friend,

I am only a distraction,

a perception,

a fleeting illusion of a dream you never had

about my Creator's wandering attentions.

Listen carefully, my friend

for what I'm telling you may not be mine to tell

and what you hear is all in your mind.

Trust me, my friend, for I belong to you.