Someone asked a question,
I am startled by the asking.
Although it is a question,
that person has the answer.

Again, I am asked the question,
this time I am not startled.
I figure: "Why answer...
they already know..."

A third time I am asked the question,
and although I am not Peter,
I know the meaning
and I weep.

I want to be able to answer,
but there is silence.
I know and don't know the answer,
yet it is clearly there.

Should I seek out the answer,
and expose myself to that which I fear?
Or do I avoid the questions like I have
thousands of times before?

I am my own grand inquisitor.
I am my own confessor
and yet I dole out punishments,
without knowing why.

Who is this inquisitor?
Who is this confessor?
Who am I?
I scream silently in the dark.

I once feared the dark,
but now I am comforted by it--
For in darkness
no one sees,
no one knows.

Darkness is safe,
but not comfortable.
Darkness is not my sanctuary.

[ April 15, 2002: Message edited by: Jim C. ]

In all of time and space, there is but one you and one me...