Me
Where is me?
What is me?
A perception,
a thought,
a prayer,
a whim?
From what batter was I poured?
Primordial ooze or celestial ether?
Am I a fragment of what once was
or a culmination of the ages?
Who sees me?
Who knows me?
Do I know me,
or am I a figment of all others’ imaginings?
This dream, this walk among the living dead-
is it guided,
misguided,
planned, plotted or designed?
If I could only stop the noise,
the incessant chatter
in my gray matter.
The voices lie,
they cry,
they laugh and chide.
They conspire to keep my thoughts occupied.
When I am still in that place of silence,
there comes the voice-
low, but audible, soft and clear.
It says,
“I am you.
You are me.
What more is there to know?”
Cheryl KP 2014
Tropical Affair 