I am a beat, I am a clock,
I am a rhythm of some sort;
I’m a carrier on a mission;
The byproduct of an invention;
A battery that is being charged
And depleted low and large.

I am a ball, I am a cell,
I am the will of higher selves;
I’m a layer of the kernel,
Flying on seat "57L";
I’m a letter that was sent to mail,
Set outbound when rings the bell.

I am a curve, I am twirl,
I am sustained motion still unfurled;
I’m necessity in the system;
Of absorption I am the emblem;
I’m a branch of fractal downward;
Of struggles past I ain't no award.

I am a beast, I am a fork,
I am a breach through inert soil;
I’m a head of the hydra snake;
Consolation in all of mistakes;
I’m the blood of the wounded,
The brain of memories faded.

I am a blink, I am a cause,
I am the storm after the pause;
I’m the pity for the angered;
Whose duties have been tempered.
I'm the eye that's about to drool
And the tooth that's bound to fool.

I am silver when I am gold,
Yes I am pale when I grow bold,
Like an etching on a clean surface
I'll be sanded just to be varnished;
I'm the most certain of prediction,
Foreseeable beyond provision.

I am ludicrous, I am lukewarm,
I am commitment amidst cold wars;
I’m the frontier around the form
And the earth that drowns the worm;
Of victory I am some defeat,
Accomplishment left incomplete.

I am a meter, I am a yard,
I am pain that causes no harm;
I'm the scepter of the peasant,
The suffering in the pleasant;
I'm everything that's ever been said,
All that's forgotten once it's been read.

I am a sin, yes I am sought,
I am a child yet to be mourned;
I’m resistance to the inevitable,
Recurrence of the unstable;
I’m the distance of departures,
The first minutes of final hours.

I am a beat, I am a clock,
I am a rhythm of some sort;
I’m a carrier on a mission,
The byproduct of an invention;
A battery that is being charged
And depleted low and large.

The mind at play is a rocking boat:
It goes along the flow of our thoughts
Between destination and arrival ports.
And on the boat we learn of causality.

The mind at rest is a quiet pond:
Its surface mirrors the world
As the edges are all withdrawn.
And in the lake we learn of unity.

The mind in a rush is a storm:
Waves collides in a frenetic waltz
Where one sees hills in eruption.
And in the storm we learn of identity.

...if we could get the vessel across;
...if we could face our own shape;
...if we could settle on the hilltops;
What more would be left for us to behold?