this month I began a new cycle <br />of creation-resignation-perpetuation. <br />who am I, and who are you? <br />if only I knew, if only I knew: <br />what more there is to me, <br />what more there is to be. <br />swept up by music beyond measure, <br />the undulating rhythmic grace <br />unifying time and space, <br />has fettered me in place, but my pace <br />spirals off beat. I can’t stay in my seat; <br />my feet stick on repeat repeat repeat <br />defeat: that aggravating deceit <br />replaying in my mind until I find <br />some logic, a rhyme or note or fallacy <br />to balance out the scale for me <br />so the past will remain behind, not rewind- <br />these fluid moments weren’t cast to last, <br />but the meter won’t abide- <br />whatever the frame, they’re all the same <br />past, present, and future collide <br />consolidating into a single somnolent hush <br />so this slue of thoughts ebbs with a rush <br />of exhaled energy, shifting from neurosis to narcosis <br />in an instant, distant and resistant, and <br />so, so quiet but still NOT still, anything but <br />still- <br />what do you fear, and why <br />are you afraid? let’s continue the charade <br />for both of us, it is one word, two syllables: <br />Myself. Yourself. <br />the answers come as questions. <br />who am I? Myself. <br />who are you? Yourself. <br />can it really be as simple <br />as the barbwire dimple <br />in your smile, or the pallor <br />of my skin-the drive to win, <br />your prejudices, my addiction, <br />our mutual love of science fiction, <br />plums, and popcorn, or our differing view <br />on life, spontaneity, and what is true? <br />who are we? <br />how do we not know?<br /><br />Indigo Hawkins<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/kinetics-of-self/
