In competition, in rivalry, in the race
We scream ME, ME! 
Driven by new greed?
But whether we know the ME?
Remains to be named.

What is this mysterious
size?

If I were the feeling,
then I would be all fickle,
one day an angel,
then a brat,
sweet, lovely, peaceful, warm,
or just bad, even harmful,
weak or strong,
mute or quiet,
loud or wise,
No, this roller coaster,
seems madness to me!

Perhaps I am the thoughts?
Then I would probably be one of the sick:
Sometimes negative, sometimes positive, 
sometimes free, sometimes limiting
And even sabotaging
Binary to quinary logic – a little potential, that sounds brilliant!
No, I won’t let myself be limited,
to the mind, the little bit of thinking!

What else is there, who am I after all?
Job, title, status, my shell?
Or is that more of a hell?
My works, my estate, my deeds?
Ah, that would just be an identity in installments:
Some at the bottom, others at the top of the ladder
Not convincing, I’ll keep looking.

What remains? My word!
Is this perhaps the place
where I dwell?
Perhaps even throne?

If so, where would I be if I remained silent?
Would I then be a coward?
What about the silent ones?
Would they then be the stupid ones?

No, that is too contradictory
Other paths must lead to the ME

All dead ends,
the crass ones!

Hard to believe.

Just let go.

Gain confidence.

You are more,
so much!

Long story short:

I AM.

8.7.2021 – Simon Rilling

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