Ryan Maseko Poet Spoken Word

My True Self

My Dear,
Are you familiar with the Ship of Theseus?
It questions whether a ship that has had all its parts replaced remains the same ship
On days of reflection, I compare my being to such a controversial theory
Our courtship is the sea, forever reciprocal in action and feeling
It is, by nature, as equal and fair as the waves that pull north with the same might they use to push south
Yet, my shores are plain-flat, with mild waves that feel pleasant beneath one’s feet
Yours, on the other hand, are violent and rocky, with waves that could shatter the Ship of Theseus in two
I write from experience, having docked on these shores many times before

I have studied the patterns of the white lanterns in the night sky and the phases of the lunar sphere
All in pursuit of proving my father’s theory:
That those of your kind change moods as the moon changes phases
In proving this theory, I have been most successful,  
As your blood drops and the lunar sphere wanes into a crescent,
Your shores become calmer, your reefs blossom with the colours of the rainbow,
Inviting small aquatic life to flourish in your mother-like embrace
Forgive my digression from the subject of this letter
When I write with you in mind, I tend to overshare,  
Babbling on with words that, while heartfelt, may seem trivial to the matter at hand

Board the Ship of Theseus with me
I have docked upon your shores more times than I can count
Some of my journeys have been pleasant
But most have ended with me torn apart by the
violent, rocky waters of your coast
These are the times when your actions and
inactions came without reason or compromise
When your critiques pierced through my sails,
When ships I neither recognised nor approved of anchored in your waters,
And you came to their defence with haste,
Believing their intentions noble,
While I, without a shadow of doubt, knew they were far more sinister

And so, I reflect

I am the Ship of Theseus!
Destroyed so many times during our courtship,
Each rotting plank removed,
Each torn sail replaced
Am I still my original self?
The self that found you amusing, beautiful, and of great intellect?
Or have I become something else entirely
A creature of mild temper, forged to tolerate your flaws?
Have I betrayed my ideals and replaced them with yours?
Am I still the Ship of Theseus, in name only?
Do I still carry the essence of my original self?
I hope this letter finds you while the lunar sphere still wanes in gibbous form
Write to me, my dear, share your thoughts

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