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Mountainous, Mousiest, Who?
I don't know what I am
The dream from which I'm waking has left me in a trance
A dissociated state kept separate from yesterday
Where the immediate is all there is of me at all
There is nothing here but me
Neither bush nor building for as far as I can see
And I struggle to discern without anything external
Whether I might be a mountain or a mouse
Still I feel I'm rather tall
The dirt clouds at my feet do not reach my face at all
And though I move through space, I do not so from my place
And living things so often easily are moved
The wind blows upon my mass
Moving pieces of whatever might be fur and might be grass
And in the feeling is revealed that I could not be made of rock
Though I can only know what I myself might feel
As I'm mostly gray and white
From my features and my feelings I cannot easily decide
And as it's by what I do that it's determined who I am
And as I interact with nothing, so am I
In fact, I can't think of a test
That could once it was decided, lay uncertainty to rest
Unless the context that I'm in be changed or understood again
Then by proximity and history, I'll know
Copyright ©
Renee Willier
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