I am not a name
The person that I was
perished with the dreams
that held him together
Though I still remember them.
I am not a voice
Too many have
spoken through me
For me to call, one among them
My own
My memories are old leaves
I cast into the fires I see
Just in case
They may burn a little brighter
I am not a body
For hunger, pain and thirst
Are real only in a world
With water, comfort and food
Other bodies, apart from mine
Which I must still mind
If I am to sustain this one
I am not a soul
For in fear I may waver
From what I believe to be true
And in any case,
The One that was my soul
Has shattered into many
They prick uncomfortably,
The pieces, like a seashell
You may step on
While walking along a beach
The tide are waves of voices
They wash over my thoughts
Which trace a line along the horizon
It passes through moments
Which I identify as poignant
Before the weight of living
Draws me back
To work, home and hearth.
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