Comments about Arthur knowles
I am real,
Well that’s what I have been told,
But even though, through mortal senses,
A world I behold.
I can not help but wonder,
Am I no more then a reflection,
Passing by a window?
Or a spark of inspiration,
Struggling against the winds,
Maybe I am a dropp of morning dew,
Only to evaporate by afternoon.
Maybe I am last night’s dream,
Being analyzed into absurdity.
Maybe I am the sum of written words,
Not quite being what the author meant to say,
Being vigorously erased,
Wiped from the page.
I am ...