The Edge Of Understanding Poem by Gordon R Menzies

I write poems with my fingertips
on a paper made of light, my fingers
rise on their own in the morning
they peck like hungry, silent birds
dropping seeds instead of ingesting
regurgitating what's been gathered
others look down upon the seeds
and see the things they think they do
and say my fingers are a wonder
because they feed us so
but how can they know this food
these words have meaning
only to me, so when the others
see the things they see
it is because they have stolen them
and the things left are now their own
in this, we are all hungry thieves
gathered at the edge of understanding
sharing the lies we choose to believe
a poem read is never
the poem that is written