A self that seems

Often I take myself

into this moment

almost hand in hand.

Lead on by an inner voice

of inquiry

and followed by

a surveying voice

of discovery.

They are not in dialogue so much

as they tend not to interrupt

but speak in sequence

so as for me to overhear.

Inquiry is asking and plaintive.

Surveillance is tonal and conclusive.

Together they proceed

to move along

and gather what comes

as one after the other.

Usually it is a train of thought

with containments of rationalization,

seized bundles of cognitive obligation,

a smattering of comedic quips,

a dreg of depressive unsaid replies,

a theme

of general personalized attention,

and a privatization

of self-talk linking it all.

There are handles of recognition

words or phrases for the taking

to carry on.

No one within me is asking

for the whole story in review.

A surmise

would generally seem to do.

Only this time around

as if it were a habitual walk

around the block,

I seem to have brought

an additional light,

some third party of insistence

but in a first person sort of way.

The pauses seem more studied.

The reflections take up

a deeper sense of composition.

There is a choir listening

for more than

a chorus line’s memory.

No one is scanning

for a familiar song.

The lyrics in response

are somewhat new.

The words themselves

feel newly composed

as if never spoken before

their origin in the now.

This is not a refrain

with a backlog of memory

nor a back-story to explain it.

This is new growth

as if spurts do come.

It is so uncommon

that I am audience dismissed

but I am in a mind space

and we, as my inner selves,

are brainstorming.

Yes, I find a voice of inclusion

undetected by the others.

There is a tenor

of compassion in the room.

Have I ever been this close

to self-love and knew?

We go on

in a kind of reverent sort of way.

Other voices from within

contributing their say.

It does not feel

like a compiling towards judgment

but it is reflective

and I sense myself identified.

I would have thought it to be

more dreamlike,

a summary said in saving grace,

but no.

This is not the conclusion

of an incident

nor is it the end of life

or a suddenness

as a dramatic event.

This is an ongoing,

with care and carriage.

I am embraced

without self-discovery as the end.

I am to learn without effort,

a sort of surrender

by overhearing myself

in like kind.

What they say

or we say

is of a deeper truth supplied.

I am graced

to have myself along.

I am thankful

in my creative silence applied.

Moment-by-moment

gifted to be

and be present

to a self

that seems to be mine . . .