I am leaving words behind as I say them.
They are like kids I have raised thus far
and have their own life now out in the world.
They meet up with friends,
stay out late, change their minds,
and maybe spend time alone.
Eventually they get back to me.
Some seem un-phased while others
have a whole new twist on what they see
and then do.
Surely, it is clear
that they have a mind of their own
and however I raised them as thoughts
and catered to their development
and growth that does not apply any more.
Yes, they are my offspring.
I did have a fair amount of influence for then
but now, they are on their own.
Who they think they are is beyond me.
If we come face to face again,
I feel a distance I cannot resolve.
What is meaningful to them now,
I have no residence to share.
It’s a wonder
that we’re all still essentially connected.
When they come to visit,
I feel further estranged in my own brain.
I need a vasectomy of the mind
and just say small talk for the rest of my life.
Look out and wonder,
what is language the progeny there of?
Meaningful is an inhabitant.
It lives and dies.
Is reality just for the weeping?