I’ll accept the inertia of a fait d’accompli
on paths that were forged yet still live and breathe.
synapse, synapse, synapse, let it be.
There may be nothing more to say, flawed
signals dragged along the paths of certitude
were always decayed.
But here I am, each day.
Bigger than all that I see, freer in a heart that bleeds.
The insult to forget what I didn’t feign-
a gratuitous knife
cutting the black ink of history
that scabs across the salty rivers of my life.
I’ve paid the tolls and rolled the dice,
awakening the only one that cares about my strife;
that eternal ember is me, Tat tvam asi.
Waxing, waning, and pushed away.
What I have made, and all the things I say.
A swelling largeness of what can be,
my own clarion call of- remember me.