A Man Passed Me Today

Today a young man passed me. He looked lost. They all do. He asked me where this place was. What could I say, when we had no name for it ourselves But the name each of us has named it? I told him the name he knew I would name, but could never name, for I was a man in a place where he knew not. I told him as best I could that I knew nothing of his life, Where he was in it or how he had come. He left me looking more confused. They all do. This place I know for myself, and I did not name it. Few of us know we have named it when we do. This young man did, or They all think they do. He might as well have come to me, asking, “What does love mean for me?” And I could have answered him no worse for such a question. Better, he should ask me how a zither sounds to him, and see me laugh. He wandered down the road, looking at the paths stretching before him. They all do. Mark Burton Sunday, February 11, 2001, 11:03 P.M.