Becoming One’s Self

 

Not who but what defines the core

Of existence where we store our sense and sensibilities.

Within the incessant storm of possibility

Internal unity must withstand that hand

Of fickle fingers reaching out for hope or desperation,

Both frustrated by evanescent ghosts that grin and flit

To excite tergiversation, to decide which it is it.

The self expands, contracts to demands,

Flails or fails to commands for consequence

While straining for the tools that fit, mutate

To shape the floating galaxies and educate the volvox

Out of flagellating conflicts with the currents of infinity.

Nowhere and nonsense integrate in love and hate

To sprout green grass into luxuriance that glistens with delight.

The me and me and me and me can crumble at the edges,

Bleed a scented excellence that might frighten actuality

To probe the sunlight with pink nose and whiskered curiosities.