Meaning What

I’ve heard this before,

Again just now, about

Milling around meaning.

Myopic nomads in desserts

Yearning for better whys.

Myriad hordes through time

Enter this vaunted debate,

Agonising over reason and how

Naught in tales or lives

Inspires great thought or heart,

Never aspires to lofty heights

Going on round the meaning cart.

Admiring hawkers and vendors,

Never seeing the solitary roads

Deep in the market’s twisted lanes.

It’s not pity nor cousin empathy

That stops by my modest house,

Is it disdain then when I see

Swaying drunkards tottering about?

Other vintages just catch my eye

Nothing more and never less.

Learning from growing rocks,

Yielding to the sighs of the unsaid.

Minds opening eyes brightly keen

Imbibing essence from empty cups,

Near the surface, `neath the frothy waves

Easing through seas in my submarine.

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