Words of little consequence #8

You already know me. But I can read.

I can read this, but how does one make itself know?
Do I step out of the woods into a clear­ing.
Do I explain the his­tory that has shaped me for bet­ter and worse.
Do I describe to your my desires, my dreams, my fears.
Do I give you my name, my loc­a­tion, my pos­i­tion, my pulse.
no, I leave you this mes­sage tacked on this old oak tree as a lady bug gingerly walks accross it. Tell me, is that you?

AYE!

Hic­cup!

And lose my care­fully cul­tiv­ated air of mys­tery and cool aloof­ness? I think not.

Oh, wait… damn.

Its my life’s work.… Mak­ing myself known that is.

Trust me, I tried.
And failed.
Now I’m known to no one but myself,
And even that’s a bit blurry.
I’m rather con­tent actu­ally..
I’d rather not have any­one know me,
If i don’t know myself.