Time-bound Energy


I have
No sense of self
Only a sense
Of messed up thoughts
And fiery aspiration.
Hopes and dreams and dust and jewels and
Love
Things and feelings
Places and beings
Parts of me
Parts of them
In me.

A sense
of Time-bound Energy
Mine to direct
Until I am me.

A life lived in technicolour
And memories prone to routine theft
And a spirit that rises to the fore
(Like in Kundera's Teresa)
Only when the sun shines
From a particularly pretty point
In a cloudy sky

A life lived trying to live a life
Failing
Instead making
Magical written history

I have
No sense of self
Only a sense
Of a story I wove
A story I told
The world.
And a compelling one it was.