I hide my light under a bushel
For I do not exist
One day I will desist
I am in my tortoise shell
Moving slowly as hell
I refuse to put my head above ground
I move around slowly without a sound,
I did not say anything today
Tomorrow I won’t say much anyway,
There is a rhythm to be hidden from view
I look for it always or for something new
But it is well hidden
No light now and then
Could shine upon this nothing space
It isn’t as if I am in some kind of race
Did I pick this way of being nothing
Or was it because time was chiming?
And the days were getting shorter
The nights doing what they oughta
No surprises could creep in here
The dark makes them disappear
I am well hidden from the world
I tuck my head in it won’t be spoiled,
With the everyday marching ahead
It’s why I don’t want to leave my bed
Stay under the covers all the time
hoping the day goes away from mine
and your ways of looking outwards.
The silence was beyond being awkward
When I emerge and destroy the paper
I am writing on with a poem proper.
I write them but they are well hidden
From the moment they are born
Inside my head and to the well worn
Keyboard or pen, each word from me
Is splashed in the open air calmly.
Did I need to be hidden all these years
Hiding like my father, shedding no tears
As he passed into another realm unknown,
How could I have copied his well renowned
Hiding in a shed at the bottom of the garden
Hiding until his last day arrived and then
No more, he is now well and truly hidden.
In fields of daisies there are delights
That entice me back into the light
I look for the butterfly and the bee
They constantly fly right passed me.
But the caterpillar is well hidden
Waiting for its day before heaven
Where it flies all around hidden places
Going passed the familiar faces.
Is this where the rhythm I seek
Has always been, I am so weak
As to not understand the living way.
I don’t speak much everyday,
The tongue remains quiet and still
I want my life beyond free will
Where the energy is used wisely
Where I’m not saying – Surprise me!
When I’m deep inside my coffin
The mourners won’t see me within
They won’t know if I’m really there
Being well hidden is all I can bear,
I am the reluctant soulful hermit
Who hides almost out of habit.
When I was at school I blended
Into the grey, wishing it was ended
Invisible was my usual dearest wish
I am well hidden, but not a cold fish
In the moments that I do emerge
Meaning floods the floors submerges
All those days I was without me
Washes them into the boiling sea
I’m well hidden not wanting to be
Not knowing how to escape, be free
Of the restraints that are all around me.
I am well hidden
Did I do this for some good reason?
Am I a target now out of season.
This earthly plain is presented
As there is only this, pretended
Living down a deep well hidden