Me

Me

Who it is that I am is a question that I’ve
Asked myself in ponderous thought
A single conclusion at which I’ve arrived
Is I must be me or I simply am not.

How can it be if I am not me?
And what does that even imply?
I think that I am therefore I must be
Only myself, no one other, just I.

It seems as though within my thoughts
That flow to a sea in a stream so clear
That it should be as easy as connecting the dots
To find whom it is that I see in the mirror.

But what of when only one piece I can see,
Is there another to connect outside of my box?
There is, I see them in the infinities
That make up my being and this “me” paradox.

Teaming with promise my singular soul
Tries to conquer this inhuman chore
Of keeping this body in careful control,
Like fighting a ceaselessly dubious war.

All in all and like I’ve said
Many a time before
I’m tired now and I’m going to bed
And I am what I am , nothing more.

-Jacob Winterfeldt