New Bottle

Hi.
I really don’t have anything new.
Never do, never did.
All my thoughts and all my words
That I could ever speak
Have already been spoken
Perhaps not in the same order
But it’s there, waiting.
Just haven’t heard it yet.

Sometimes I just have to say things
Sometimes I just have to try
To make you laugh
Because I like the way you smile
Sometimes I make you cry
Don’t ask me why.
It’s not important.

What’s important is that
You find your meaning
Words are just symbols, you know.
And what symbols mean
Depends
On our conditionings.

All my life I’ve searched for meaning
But once spoken
Meaning is no longer just
What you mean it to mean
But what the listener gleans.

I see something new
I want to share it
How I see it
And I forget
Maybe you’ve seen it before.
Maybe it’s not the same for you.
And maybe,
You don’t really want to see.

Oh this silly mind.
You see things and say
Mine, mine.
Inside of you, there’s a gold mine.
Why don’t you go and dig?

They say, give a dog his bone.
Once you have a bone, mind,
You chew and chew.
You then bury it
And say, mine, mine.

The bone turns to dust
Remembering, you dig-
Where you buried it
You find nothing but ash and dust
With thirsty teeth you cry and whine,
And blame the world for being unjust-
All the while the treasured gold
Stays undug, hidden in your mine.

Oh, old bottle of mine-
Filled to the brim
With salty tears, bitter tears
That overflow from time to time. 
Very well. Ferment!
One day the cork will blow, with a pop
And I’ll keep you in the rain
Until filled once more you are
With sweet, pure rainwater from the sky.

Silly mind.
I am not you, but you are mine.
Old bottle
Old wine.