Tentative fingers, grasping hand,
So much I don't understand
Probing, asking, "NOW!" demand,
Who are you, my reflection?

Show me, tell me, can we find?
It's okay, I will not mind.
Don't you dare leave me behind!
You run the same direction.

How are you? I'm very fine.
I can say a little line.
What means this? Is not it mine?
Differences for collection.

You need; only you know how much;
Tolerate too close a touch.
See them sneer, "I don't need such!"
Superficial selection.

And here I leave this nest of words
Identities, boundaries blurred
When you have finally, truly heard,
Then can begin correction.

Penned by my hand on the 19th of Miraman, in the year 744 AF.