Like something
Like something else
Must everything be like something
So that we can recognise it
So it can mean something
To us?

An icon is a start
It can be a picture or
It can be a word or it can be
A musical style, or phrase, or timbre.
But it can mean something
Because it relates to
Something else.

Lost in a sea
Of nothing recognisable
We wander through fear, frustration,
Impatient to find something
In what we’re reading,
Seeing, hearing,

And in that moment
Do we experience something new:
The unknown, the unexpected, the frightening?
Or are we baffled into giving up,
Going away, switching off?

And where did this all start?
Did the infant already know what something was?
Or was it an amazingly fast learning from all that was around?

Is this how we make our world?
Recognise, nurture, connect, feel whole?
Do all things come from something else?
Does every piece of writing, work of art, piece of music
Come from the work of another, and another, and another,
Going back into the work of our ancestors?
Into the world before?
Into darkness?
Into soul?