The Shell

A poem about shells.

Who are you

and what am I?

I see lights up in the sky,

but they always fall for you.

Was it true

what you said?

In all the books that I've read

I never learned if its true.

But what fores,

and where fores,

and how fores,

and so fourths

are nothing.

They're literally nothing.

And here now,

and there now,

and what now,

and how now

is nothing.

All of its nothing.

I told you

who I was,

even though I thought the cause

was always made just for you.

In your eyes

I see the light;

"Who can say whats wrong or right?"

"Who else but the light", she sighs.

But what fores,

and where fores,

and how fores,

and so fourths

are nothing.

They're don't count for anything.

But if you see

upon a beach,

a little crab

with little feet...

As they pitter...

And they patter...

And if you look

then you will see,

a tiny shell

whence crab was freed...

And its empty...

Doesn't matter...

And as the tide

comes rolling in

the beach is clean;

washed free of sin.

And as I lay

the calm sweeps in.

My mind is clean...

cleaned from within.

My mind is clean...

cleaned from within.