Copyright © 1996,
Reg Harbeck, all rights reserved.
This word is that word,
A symbol of itself;
When seen, when read, when heard,
When is it no longer that word?
This me and my name
Are ever distinct and the same.
My name lives by rules which trouble me not;
But I can behave, to my glory or shame.
This sentence, from sentience, expresses a thought,
Which lacks clearer substance, yet this, it is not.
That sentence, a symbol, exists on its own,
Long after its mandate has partly been known.
And you, politician, whom voters have sent,
Have sentenced to act, what do you represent?
Are you standing for me, for us, for you, or whom --
Have you room in your life and your rules
To stand for fools?
Or, in what guise could you stand for the wise?
In what wise could you stand for "the guys"?
My symbol-minded musing
Seems clearly quite confusing,
But when you sort what represents
From what it stands for, you may sense
Your innocence about what's meant
Is also guilt for having lent
Your view, as though 'twere what is true,
To unknown substance sensed by you.
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