Putting Myself Together
Daybreak and I've managed
it again, putting myself
together from all the parts
left strewn across my sleep.
I seem to fit into myself
so well, a glance in the mirror
confirms the features and shape
look right. Some days I may
get the sequence a little wrong,
a trait or attribute placed
out of order, noticed when
I appear a trifle vague
or far away, a touch eccentric.
Then there are times when
I cannot clear my head of dream
and feel as though I'm counterfeit,
a clever glaze concealing
what is really there.
Strip everything away and I am
no bigger than an atom, too small
to be noticed, much less heard.
So I play my role with all
the usual artistry, keep appointments,
be polite, do the chores and listen.
The rest is too hard to explain.
I've learnt that at such times
it's easier to just stay silent.
Finally I go to bed exhausted
wondering whether you
invented me or I invented you,
drifting off to be scattered again
across the battlegrounds of sleep.
I would like to think I am
not alone but rather unaware,
a precious part of something
infinitely bigger, looking at itself
mirrored in creation and finding
how everything, including me,
fits so well together.
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