I would not have believed it If there was no name in this myth. I talked with a librarian today,
Pointing me in a direction unfriendly to science. Was she really a librarian?
The answer was not in a book But the palm of her hand,
But it cannot be seen. Lines of a present and future But I know nothing of her past.
No one knows if you really existed.

She claimed calmly That the words I seek arn't words at all Inside coincidences and lies,
Or something that's long gone into the soot of an ancient garden And only legend.
I couldn't help but ask if I was searching for a song,
Sounds that could be written down.
I believed in the customer/employee rule,
Where hello is implied and there's only goodbye.
I want an answer, that's all. Sometimes. I think. No one knows if I really exist.

She smiled in a mysterious way To only those mysterious,
And took my own hand hiding inside my jacket,
Placing it quietly in hers. "What is the world?" she kept asking.
I was never sure how to answer it, but I wondered who you are.
Who am I speaking to now, Who was I searching in here for, Who I will be.
I became scared, there's something missing and It'll take me life and beyond to
Figure it out. She opened my eyes for me, a little.
Who else is going to be there to help me explain?
Could it be you? -because she'll be gone. No one knows if she will exist.
Or if she ever did.
At all.