where is me
upon ash and dust
shall the rain collide
so tell me, who remains

drowning in faint whispering of the syntax?
bracing the brackets of the mind?
buried in dust of bone?
why the frail psyche bound to collapse?
no me is not here

humans are simple
their composition seemingly
far too elegant, a dash of this
pinch of that, presto!
that be a man there, no?

pack me up, carry me in your knapsack
it seems I'm little more than a midday picnic