words

I am not,

I realized suddenly, in a moment split in ways worth many thousands of dollar-hours or hour-dollars spent turning over and examining the contents of my own psychesphere.

I am not me,

Or it or this, I simply

Am not this creature that I cling to

And it, in its romantically earthen form spun from the unbroken production of matter that is clever enough in its greater frequencies to move the local universe,

It is not me.

I am the unbroken matter chain, the process,
Shivering in the same dark nothing as you and everyone and everything,
We are all not the walking stories we pretend to be.

We are the in-between, glimpsing the truthful scaffolding of whatever is greater than the sum of us, edging forward to aloft outright among the gods, known and otherwise, to say at last see us, we are here, we are you.

2019sm