Are We All Solipsists?

I

Is poetry an expression of the self?
Or is it an expression of the truth?

II

Are all our minds just solipsist teacups 
And no man, however penetrating
Can truly know what is in another man's heart?

Is all our poetry simply an expression of self?
Or does a stranger share in our sufferings?
Can there be an utterance of the truth
Something true for all men
Or even just two?

Can there be an expression,
A word uttered that is truly understood?
Can the best poets be penetrated
Or are we trapped in eternal silence
Of the solipsist called our soul?

We reach outward, but do we truly see
The world for what it is?
Do we share our sight
Or are all men that of blindness
And can only see what is seen for them?

Are we truly alone
In our bodies
Our souls an isolated remnant
Which travels,
And it is only us and our sufferings?
No one to reach out to
No one to truly know us
Nor no one we can truly know?

Are we just solipsists?
The answer, I do believe
Is no.