Who am I, really?
I walked through a park tonight, shadows long before me.
Twice my height, thanks to a lamp-light behind.
In the same exponentiation, oh the tricks my mind played.
For there I was, climbing and tumbling -- as ever I was.
But in my current state of being, I could never achieve this.
I even heard the sounds, those of my childhood.
A different playground -- and that is when I stopped moving.
Swinging like a chimpanzee, with as many cares for tomorrow.
How is it that I can see it -- what database stores such a thing?
I did it, I did it, I did it, I did it, I did it, I did it, I did it, I did it.
But I could never do it. I could never do it. I could never do it.
Who am I, really? An amalgam of memories of who I was?
If so, I could jump up there, and make a circuit of these bars.
But I cannot do so. If time is relative to distance, how can this
apparatus be so near to me and the experience so far off?
So impossible. So improbable. So impossible. So distant.
© Ciprianowords, Inc. 2016