untitled

i lie down
in this bed
of water
and let the
waves roll
over me.
whether i am
in light
or darkness
i'm not sure.
i know nothing
still,
having read
a thousand
books. no
inkling really
about love,
despite being
in love.
or life, having
lived one. not
enough to
fill this
small cup
i drink from.
if i lived
another
fifty years
i'd still
have nothing
to help you
with. you'd
listen, but
that's all.
nothing gets
passed on,
just the words,
you'll have
to do the rest.