except the choice
to make the world or not.
But then, who knows?
Do I? I do.
But what do I,
except by chance?
And then, what choices do I make
that were not made for me,
when random chance and circumstance
prescribed reality for me
within my web of flesh,
my brain, my animal?
From time and space the DNA from two
and thousands yet before, linked up
and made the space I am in time--
like looking at the images of selves
while sandwiched in between
two mirrored walls--
the twisting molecules with patterns set
to replicate and grow a me,
a vehicle for changeling mind
that builds on pasts and banished ghosts,
yet reaches out to find the new.
I know I came from stars.
I know I'll fall apart again, dissolve.
But what of in between?
What now, what then, what god(s), what
Alone, I feel alone
and search the deep inside or out.
I do not know.
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