I am ego,
until the death of me.
this life is like pure riding time,
on a self-bull at a reality rodeo
with wits as reigns
and circumstance as bareback.
yes, there is audience all around,
but with up and down physical
as gravity encouraging the ride.
sure, I'll take a body-slam
as a kiss of death,
but the upright momentum so far,
is not-stop,
as seconds turn into decades.
somewheres, lost my hat,
as memories burned on my butt.
eight seconds is into eighty years.
what ego can't appreciate that?
yet reality is as a rodeo hoax.
as we all ride into the future,
metaphorically bare-backed,
with time bucking,
and one-hand reigns-bound . . .
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