You show me the patterns in the sky
You exclude deduction but allow magic, I guess
You tell me what it makes you feel
I am supposed to know what this is
I can measure the length and breadth
I find it leads to no conclusion that is me
Wave your hands all you want
I just don’t understand
The blank side of my brain won’t talk to me
Alien feelings, specters and presences
Make agreements among themselves
To confuse how I have lived all this time
Shallow depressions fill with rain
Always irregular shapes, but something makes
Me covert them to perfect circles
And the water of course goes along with this
Temporarily, until it finds a crack or a way out
Confounding my small aptitude, my little recognition.