Existence

You don't know me,

more than a stranger does.

Even strangers know that,

they don't know me.

But you have declared, in an instance that,

you know me, like I am nothing.

As if I am nothing more

than a wall notice you had read.

As if with a meter scale you can,

assess me like the stumps you had seen.

As if with a plain gaze you can see across,

like the rivers you had met.

As if with a stone you can throw me down,

like the fruits you had tasted.

You don't know me,

more than a stranger does.

Even the strangers know what epics are,

what trees, the ocean, or the stars are.

And you know me?

Did you know that I do not exist?

Or that I lied?

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[This poem is previously published here]