It is never quite what you expected
(after all, there are no maps or guidebooks)
in that place inside where resurrected
illusions are hiding in each dark nook;
What they taught you regarding self-knowledge
(the meaning of a man, our true nature),
those endless books and long years of college,
convincing you that you were so mature
is often just a load of worthless crap.
When you really do start finding yourself,
what you first see is not easy to take –
it’s not Nirvana that falls in your lap,
but the shattered fragments of something else –
the spent cocoon each caterpillar makes.
06 FEB 2003
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