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I am right here my dear.
Shuffling within your ear.
That’s me in the corner,
The facile performer.
That’s me-to-your-rite,
In your pocket so tight,
Nestled in the smallest,
Secret chamber the universe shelters.
I’m infiltrating your psyche,
Whispering arrant arcanas idly –
A private audience within your ears…

Can you hear me yet?

And when I tell you that
I am sat on your shoulder,
It is closer to say that I
Perch in your cranium,
A restless succedaneum.
Rifling through your lashes,
With flickering flashes.
An adept pupil –
Eye, and more;
I’m walking the tightrope behind your irises…

Can you see me yet?

I am tour guide to
The tremulous labyrinth,
That shelters the very moment
Of your here and now,
The why and how?
Your inescapable there and then.
Where and when?
When the world suddenly feels misplaced;
I slip, silently, into your fingertips…

Can you feel me yet?

I cartwheel across the sky,
From Canadian goose to goose,
As you glance up at the clouds,
Trying to find reasons,
For these emotive seasons.
Explanations in a nutshell,
Within the circling cosmos,
Which seems to suspend you endlessly,
Yeilding time-worn, tickled taste-buds.
I am your shell.
You are my nut.

Can you taste me yet?