What is “I”?

The fiction of self is a true seeming
Lie
A fence we construct
To keep out
And keep in

I am all these things and neither
I am a self believer!
And a self seeker!
A builder of tables and chairs and shelves
So enamoured with selves, I am

But what can be, when all this furniture is self-built?
No one bought me for me
Though I have been moved about
And dragged on floors
And scratched and used and misplaced

Still it is mine to define
These grooves in my brain that
Act
React
And race -at words, pictures, places, faces

Can I refuse to define, without defining myself
By my lack of definition?
Maybe another can

I am sure the lack of definition would
become, without any permission,
What makes me me,
In no time at all

It’s better than (I assume. I think. I! I! I! -what is “I”?)
Better than- to hold lightly these sentences
Clothe lightly these descriptors
Watch carefully this personality
That I declare me
Laugh at her foibles
And enjoy her delights

Author: K L

Just having a human experience like everyone else.

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