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.