Ye goest outing, saying like,
Why did you put a face in front of me?
What have I done to ye?
Ye view me as an “Other,”
Why? I have been here for a long time,
Yet I doth not need to tell thee all about me.
Excuse me, how many years have ye keeps all it to thyself?
They died with their secrets, happy that the secrets are unrevealing.
Well, well, how many have I pronounce myself out to the air,
Saying like, how well, art I to thou? Thee need me not of thy advantage,
But thee need me for our divine, our truth, and our advantage,
For there are no “you” nor “I,” but we
Is it enough?
© Ismael Mansoor