reading into

I try to look into those words, like peering into a fishbowl, distorted by distance like the fish are distorted by the glass.

I try to look under them, like lifting the sheet to peek under a bed. Everything there is hidden among dustbunnies in the shadows.

I look between them, like searching a crowd for a specific person who keeps moving through and getting lost among the like-coloured hats and taller people.

I look for meaning there. Analysis reading, like in a high school lit. class.

I see meaning there. But I often wonder if it is only my perception that finds it; if it is all an illusion after all.