Who am I to believe
that I know what’s best
for me, myself, and I?
It seems it’s never quite the same
For I am fine
but parts of me are not.
And myself?
Who is that?
Parts of me grasping
to and fro, up and down, in and out.
I swept the scattered bits
Set myself to the puzzle again
Pushed together pieces
that didn’t fit
Parts of me outside myself
The more I sweep,
the more the pieces scatter
A fading vision
of what might never come to be.
Maybe I should leave them?
Set myself onto something new
Search for better pieces
Forget what is lost
Find what is new
I know the best is yet to come
Parts of me aren’t so sure
And myself?
He will live and die
Be born anew
through parts of me in the new vision of I.
Originally written April 2020. Edited and Published June 2021.
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