Tuesday, May 21, 2013

V. 2, #54: May 21, 2013

My inspiration comes from breathing in
and every time I breathe out, it expires
My soul is born, it dies, and lives again
as often as biology requires

My eyes create the world from rays of light,
and then destroy it every time I blink
It crumbles and reconstitutes, not quite
the same it was before, I sometimes think.

And cell by cell my body is replaced
at night when I'm asleep. A year or two,
this mortal coil will crumble into waste
and what remains will be completely new.

So am I me? Or am I someone else,
condemned to replicate these faulty cells?


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