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"I believe a leaf of grass is no less than the journey-work of the stars."
Walt Whitman
Who are we to presume, to conjecture,
that something is as we thought it is.
Who are we to say that we know what the poem is about, what the song is about.

We read, we listen, we see,
Is that enough?

We feel, we sympathize, we know,
Do we?

Something is not all as it is made on
There is always more than it is
There is always more than just something

The interpretations, they are lies.

I wonder what the writers were thinking when they wrote that.
I interpret them myself and therefore I am a liar.

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