Is it you we are here for? We have a notion of you, from your story or song. You shared so deeply we all felt deep. Fresh from the streets so clear so bright, elegance radiating from words and smile, bringing your message home to our hearts. Blitzkrieg so blazing it sank right in, resistance was futile to a theme so strong, Slowly we owned it, molded to our fears, Shapeshifted into our own understanding. When again and again you published your truth, we waited in line, anxious to be the first. As if the purchase was virtue to display that would cleanse our soul of attachment. We see you for who we need you to be sorting through truths that fit our moods. Yours a path walked only by you, we look to you as we adore ourselves, a mirror reflecting merit not earned or digested. We project expectations and get what we pay for. With all the gifts being left at your feet, And the preconceptions that come through the door, Your grace - as one should suppose is still present- is tempered and softened from ringing true. Now you have followers who can publicly claim apart from others, they are closer to truth starting a game of telephone, building a tome explicating complexities from a once simple idea. Experts explain better what was unsaid, I say, Is it you we are here for?