Master Plans And Hoodlums Poem by Mary X

Which eyes are the
right eyes?
There are no
right eyes,

do not look into
their sitting-gaze.

Which words are the
words of truth?
There are no
truthful words;

apart from the words
spilling from your own mouth.

Which nature is the
purest?
The man-made hoodlum
locked in machinery?

The bird eating it’s
worm to be
snapped up by a
preying cat?

Neither; do not use
your eyes unless they
are fully open.

Which poem is the
universal?

None; do not accept them.
Throw away the pages.
Ignore the words
but remember

to listen what’s in-between
the lines,

not what you wish to see
with a wishful smile
and a wishful wink too.

The only plan;
the only embedded truth is that

you created me –
and
I created you.