Questions hit me hard.
      Will I be successful?
            My roads lead where?
                  Why did I choose to be me?

Questions do hit me hard,
they hit me in forms I can't even feel,
in 5th or 6th dimensions.

Questions are an insult,
Doubts are heresy,
Doubts are immortal,
truths are fragile,
Truths are lack of intelligence,
but still I seek them relentlessly.

I'm broke to search things I do not believe:
to look for oceans inside a desert,
to look for laws and axioms in chaos,
to look for stories never to be told,
to seek and seek answers
that brings reasonable meaning to the world,
to **** absurds,
and to birth coherence.

I took things absolutely,
I believed unquestionably in nature's laws,
I believed in authorities,
I legitimated aesthetics,
I thought I learned,
I talked and spread words not mine,
I walked in firm soils
(but never knew their plasticity underneath me),
I assured,
I was,
I am

I.