I keep not knowing who I am.
recognition is a slippery slope.
it's selfies without technology.
it's a broken bottle on the bow of doubt.
it's photos taken for memories sake
as if this imprint has any lasting value.
flow doesn't demand instantaneous justification.
every time I freeze frame,
I am subject to not knowing,
like I just awoke from a longtime slumber
into a body and identity to be accounted for.
my reality is somnambulism or fantasy beyond
and then there is the ritual of recognition,
as a set of cursory rules recited to myself.
a quick check on being for appearance's sake.
what does knowing who I am do for me?
it's not a recital or an authentic account.
at best it's a projection skill,
a spontaneous screen test
without mirror feedback.
I just can't keep relying on the past
to justify my going forward.
how did apprehension get such an upper hand?
I should be glad not to be self custodial.
my life should be a free-fall
of what's coming forth.
I should be celebrating what comes thru.
I am life without an I.D. to caretake.
I don't want recognition as laid to rest.
I want to be the cutting edge of my now,
not that I ordered from the menu of me.
self-apprehension has a false god.
I want the religion of the unexpected expressed.
I want expectation's choir to quietly hum to themselves.
I want my actions juiced with the gift of living.
I want the courtesy of meaning,
not the dictum of it as override.
I want to imagine my life without spare parts,
animation as the wardrobe of presence,
and being as the sounding-board,
that others feel permitted to respond,
from where they are the essence of themselves,
coming thru.
our consciousness is to sing,
not mumble.
I really don't want to know
as much as I want to be . . .
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