Shall I pour forth words from the shallow pools of my mind, and push them over the precipice of precarious articulation into a precocious communication of whatever I have to resemble a soul?
Shall I speak
From the hearts of
Dead men and women,
To raise them through
Grand Collective Legacy?
Do I even have a choice, or is each moment to predetermine the next– producing perpetual propagation?
And am I nothing but a process of change through space and time?
Look closely, and you will find that
we are all as infinite as asymptotes.
If you divide my moments into halves, you’ll find within infinite divisions an infinite number of different beings.
They all blend together–
Sharing an identity for the sake of building the next entity.