The Observer

You bend your head

and shape your hands

to the geography of ivory

piano keys.

I see your passion

I hear your conscience

The depth of your soul

- I cannot begin to fathom.

Your words provide a

safeguard for the sea

of emotion, of thought,

and of sorrow

- which I do not understand.

This discontentment

of wanting to know.

I stretch out my hand

and like a ripple on glass,

you pull away.

Smooth and impenetrable.

Fascination and frustration

-I am now privy to their inspection

How I wish to know

your personal psychology.

I cannot see

-I cannot touch
 your inner mind.

Sunk below the sea foam surface.

I can only observe

and come up with a blank

upon drawing a conclusion

- envying those who do understand.

I submerge myself

Hoping-praying-

to be part of your passion

and part of the conscience

-which I cannot begin to fathom.

Help me understand.

Let me understand.