I am not I

velvet strings of tattered tapestries
strewn over dirty windows create illusions
dancing lights waltz in a slow three
morning noon and night

morning noon and night

(one two three)

on the last beat the music stops
heavy air is sucked into the sky
as stars appear by lazy clouds
frogs talking in amphibian codes

(one)

I look at the division between
time and timelessness irridescence
sheparded movement sliding
me into you effortlessly

once the boundary fails
sun shines in darkness
pervading all emptiness
with graviton pulses

(two~)

I wish I could appreciate
the sun

but without darkness
I grow weary

(~two~)

the sun blinds me
and as I stumble
the heat rises

I burn

(~two~ ~two~)

the day dances
on a record player
skipping on noon

(~two~

~two~

~two~...)

and now
with no division
I am no longer I

I cannot even say
"I am"