It was a coin,
a coin I had--
before I stole it.
I was convinced that I
knew the size and shape of it.
The coin sat weighted
in my hand, and the face
on it looked baleful,
as the tails side was scratched off.
I flipped the coin,
nothing and a face,
blending as in an illusion,
nothing and a face,
the bird was in the cage.
It spun, and I couldn't tell
one side from the other.
Two dimensions were three there
in the air, free falling
into my expectant hand.
Then it was certain
to be one or the other.
Imagine then, to my surprise,
and chagrin,
when I opened my hand,
and there was no coin at all.
a coin I had--
before I stole it.
I was convinced that I
knew the size and shape of it.
The coin sat weighted
in my hand, and the face
on it looked baleful,
as the tails side was scratched off.
I flipped the coin,
nothing and a face,
blending as in an illusion,
nothing and a face,
the bird was in the cage.
It spun, and I couldn't tell
one side from the other.
Two dimensions were three there
in the air, free falling
into my expectant hand.
Then it was certain
to be one or the other.
Imagine then, to my surprise,
and chagrin,
when I opened my hand,
and there was no coin at all.
I could be totally off of the real meaning but here's a shot:
ReplyDeleteWhat are we worth if we only have a face and no backround of truth to back us up? Nothng. Our true self will average out and we will eventually realize it was for nothing in the end.