This Morning I'm Afraid

After so many long bus rides through the overwhelming reality
Of things being what they are, and never what they can't be,
After so many obvious bus trips on what could only be buses,
Through streets that are just streets, past buildings
That are just such buildings, seated with those
Being what they are who are only those
Beside me, because they're always sitting
Beside me, and never
Somewhere else, this morning, as I see things, I'm afraid I feel
Like myself again, because this morning I'm afraid
I'm myself again, and everything else
Is something else. When I look at the ones around me, I'm afraid
That they're just around me, I'm afraid that they're only there,
And that my look is just a look.
I watch a man reading the paper, and he can only do
What I'm seeing him do; he can read until he stops,
But when he stops, he only stops.
I listen in on the two behind me, and they can only say
What I'm hearing them say; they can whisper if they want to,
But if they do, it's just that they do.
One man has a crutch. If only he really didn't.
One man has a crutch. That could only be a crutch.
One man has a crutch. I wish
That it were otherwise, and I would wish
That it were otherwise, but if it happened
To be that way, it would only be that way.
This morning the way things stand, that's what I'm afraid of.
I'm afraid it could all be different, and that would only be the case.
Feeling the way I do, and never the way I don't feel,
Filled with a sense of hope that is only a sense of hope,
Knowing the power of change, even caring about the difference,
This morning I'm afraid, and this could never be otherwise.
If my fear were something else, it would just be something else.