Who am I but you?
A thousand patterns fill my head
In day and while I lie in bed.
I think they're false while nighttime fill
But in day's light of course are real.
This neural dancing is my all,
I cannot but obey its call,
And if it weren't, I would not too.
Oh, patterns! Who am I but you?
Yet I do feel there's something more,
The patterns cannot be my core.
For if by night are false, then why
By day shan't also be a lie?
But if I'm more than where reside
If other than my skull's inside?
For matter fills all space I see,
External, there's no room for me!
Is there some spark, an inner light
Eluding all senses, despite
Convictions it is not a sham
Lest patterning I only am?
Alas! Sure I cannot become
Regarding where my me is from.
The search for light may be my thrill,
But patterns hold captive my will.
In day and while I lie in bed.
I think they're false while nighttime fill
But in day's light of course are real.
This neural dancing is my all,
I cannot but obey its call,
And if it weren't, I would not too.
Oh, patterns! Who am I but you?
Yet I do feel there's something more,
The patterns cannot be my core.
For if by night are false, then why
By day shan't also be a lie?
But if I'm more than where reside
If other than my skull's inside?
For matter fills all space I see,
External, there's no room for me!
Is there some spark, an inner light
Eluding all senses, despite
Convictions it is not a sham
Lest patterning I only am?
Alas! Sure I cannot become
Regarding where my me is from.
The search for light may be my thrill,
But patterns hold captive my will.
posted by xtraplanetary at 7:33 AM
2 Comments:
Whoa! Shakespeare-esque structure you have here. Is it about the dreams you see and remember?
No, it's actually about the nature of consciousness and on whether or not a "soul" exists, and if so, what is it? It's kind of my exploration of what my identity is and the poem explains my longing for a separate "spark" even while recognizing that only the patterns in my brain are really there.
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