As I Consider Myself.

I: a kernel of time, of space, drifting in an ocean of infant, repetative waves lulling the sands and stars to sleep. I am dissolving, distributing, metamorphosing into the waves, the air, the sun, the trees, being here, everywhere, holding my existence in this moment. But an existence all too meaningless, temporary, insignificant: the matter of my body came from somewhere else, and it shall return to somewhere else when I am no longer exemplifying myself. The matter of my body was never mine. My body belongs to the universe, like a hair belongs to me, a hair that will shed itself when it becomes weak and frees itself from the follicle that breathed it. The air I breathe owns me, the grass I roll in owns me, the stars own me, the eternal night owns me. Sewn inside every quark, the kernals constructing all existence, the spiraling, contracted, infinite instructions--