The Piece

by joetwo

How does my work define me?

What do you see when you read these words?

Is it a sage, or a fool?

A prophet, or a heretic?

A hero, or a villain?

How much of me is in here?

It can’t be all

There is more to me than that

Is there even any of me in here at all?

The words are mine, I wrote them

But is the sentiment?

Could it all be an invention

To impress, to cajole, to woo?

In all likelihood you will never know

We will never meet

And eventually the capricious nature of the blogosphere will separate us forever

So who I am really doesn’t matter

It is the words, the piece that matters

What you read from it, what you see in it

If it inspires or informs you

Regardless of what I intended

It is you dear reader, that gives it meaning