I Am who I say I Am.
I think therefore I Am.
I think a thousand ‘lectrical bolts
Turning and tumbling through tiny trips.
I Am the impulses – to be or not.
To suffer, or die? I Am death.
Death is equal; equality is free.
I Am subtextual, inhabiting thoughts
Though thoroughly threaded through
Interwoven strings, vibrating in unison.
I Am a thousand tiny dots.
Light pixellates my tiny frame
And spins it round the deep black hole
Until my life is crushed asunder
The dirt and stones and silent tones.
I Am here and I Am not,
A solid pound of cracking rock,
Rigid until unobserved.
I Am the final and the first,
Beginning last and outlasting all,
Learning love and losing life
While creeping trees enwrap spiny branches
Around my ankles and through my ears,
Poking holes out from my eyes
Elaborating all my fears
Until, upon the desert floor,
The stones are bread;
The bread’s no more.
I Am the dust, and the ash,
Forgiving my own sins –
Indulge me one more sad reflection,
A revelation without correction.