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Song of Myself

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Intellectualism, individuality, weird and obscure thoughts.
I love. I laugh. I live.
Certain circular sayings tripping up my tongue.
“Remember, remember!” with attitude.
The opportunity for escape and success presents itself in a box.
To run is a small feat for a work so great; so I run.
The hurriedly memorized speech flows easier now.
I whisper to the silence in repeat of the race.
Let it come in the familiar surroundings as if it were complete.
Then a pause… words, don’t leave me!
Speed. Agility. Perfection—not yet.
I close my eyes and become the girl.
Who am I? Not me, for sure.
The command disrupting my serenity is directed to my box and me.
I return to the dais to display my procrastination.
Reciting. Recalling. Remembering. Returning to solitude.
Then I stop, and my head drops.
A thousand crashing waves all around.
Imperfection; I know it!
Yet… here is the noise.
Why?
Because it wasn’t me.
I was a child’s imagination—craftily creating my deception.
I am the Great One—who never ceases to perform and entertain.
It is everything I know, everything I am, and everything I will become.
Unconditional devotion. Joy beyond measure. Success!





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