What an insane thing you really are…
Crude matter pretending to be something you are not…
Well I suppose you are those things…
You are all those things…
I am made of all the other things too…
I am all those other things…
Or was those things…
But still am those things rearranged…
I was once an exploding star…
I was once a dinosaur toe…
I was cow shit…
A blade of grass…
Wind passing over a meadow…
And now look at me!
Or you?
A person sitting in a living room…
Writing poetry!
Believing that I am something separate…
That I am some man named John…
And what will I be next?
Will my spirit live on?
Is my spirit born of my matter?
Or is my matter born of my spirit?
Or are they something separate altogether?
Will my matter become something else?
Oh, you, all this universal stuff…
All this dancing matter of stuff…
All these strange masks of identity you wear…
Tree…
Rock…
Alex…
Alexandra…
President…
Peasant…
Who are you, Mr. Universe?
You are fucking crazy…
That is what you are!
We are all just fucking crazy like you…
Wearing our crazy masks of identity…
Playing this big game of pretend…
The most real game of pretend there is…
There is nothing else to do but play pretend…
Pretend to be something…
Pretend to be someone…
But we are Mr. Universe…
Or Mrs. Universe?
Doesn’t matter, does it?
Being all the same crazy stuff, that is.