Who am I to be me anyway?
a question for glaze eyes,
with no opening
for sight

gaze into my eyes
to decipher the sparkle.
Not from laughter,
from cogs.

wheels and ticking
not mechanically,
fantastically,form
the universe behind
pupil domes.

brilliant stars
i revolve around make
the gravitational pull i feel
from those beloved
burning ones.

ice comets
slash through emptiness.
the chill, cool, and clear
write what really matters:
agility of action,
the action of thought

planet earth
is really just an ant pile
in my big picture.
bugs bustling around a sphere,
which is basically
a circle.

onward to outward.
distance, incomprehensible
space and potential to other
galaxies and goals
i will reach.

things work
not because they're functional,
but because they define
the right i caress
to be me

Who am I to be me anyway?
search space.
there is something behind
every blue dome.