On Being

who? me?

On Being

the morning lays open on my eyes,

light comes forth,

sounds emanate from everywhere.

there is so much nothingness in this moment

i pause in delight.

resting on some inconceivable thought

meandering on the brow of discovery

here, in its purest form, i am,

still, pursuing the effervesces of who i am

wondering around the next corner of nothing,

antennae abeam, smiling to myself,

is this who i really am?