By Don Iannone
So much can be packed
into such very small words
that seem to mean nothing
but end up meaning everything.
Like the word “it” that points
to something different
every time you use the word.
One time “it’ is the sunset
that just disappeared beyond the horizon.
Another time “it” is the work project
that is about to give you can ulcer.
Yet in another instance,
“it” points to that unidentified feeling
welling up inside you,
stopping you dead in your tracks.
One thing “it” is not is me referring to me
or you referring to yourself.
The only time an “it” can exist
is when you as the subject point to something
other than yourself as an object.