It’s all coming up in spits and spurts –
the worst parts of me.
I see those ones aren’t really me –
just outdated, overrun programming.
Why do I have to choose to run it
just cuz the program wants to finish?
It’s a program. That’s not me.
What’s “me”? I don’t know.
I can’t ever seem to stay still
long enough to decide.

All there is, is all the watching.
All there is, is the art, and the dance
and the song; the words.
Yet, those aren’t me too.
Though, those are the better parts,
the ones I like to keep.
I can say I feel weary
from the other, more tiring things.
But who? Who is weary?
Who works? Who suffers? Who sleeps?

I’m here. This is all I know.
I’m here and, this is everything.
The wonder of the world
is whatever you want it to be.
What do you love?
What will you keep?

I will go, blissfully naked and unmade,
up into the arms of my only beloved –
my Self – my world – my own mother.
I will draw life from the air
and cause the world to know.
We are here.