Turning the idea of you
over in my head.
Not sure if I believe in you,
or if I made you up, instead.
Nothing else like you here,
but I see you everywhere.
How did you make me
from the earth and atmosphere?
You speak
as if you are
the only thing
that exists,
or has ever existed,
but you
keep using
inclusive words.
How can it be “We”
and be all you?
So confounding,
if not altogether
insane.
Turning the idea of me
over in my hands.
Something I can touch,
but I don’t understand.
Nothing else like me here,
but I see me everywhere,
sometimes even in
the earth and atmosphere.
I speak and move
through this world
as if I have
some kind of autonomy,
but I only survive
by the ties
to my community.
I am alive,
because nature takes its course.
I am
the transistor,
not the force.
A conduit for the will.
Not mine?
Not yours?
Wondering what all this
is here for.
Constant,
like love and war,
and the spark of life
at the very core
of everything.
So strange to be here,
experiencing this idea.
Existing, living
this impossible ordeal,
between the earth and the atmosphere.
HG – 2022
