I Do Not Know Where These Words Come From Poem by Shalom Freedman

I do not know where these words come from
I write them as if I really exist-

The latest research proclaims Hume right
There is a succession of states
And no real single self-

Is it me that is writing these lines?
I know my own name
I feel myself real
But this feeling too is passing
Though I can tell you what I did yesterday
And what I intend to do today-

Someday I will not be here
And these lines
Will be a representation of some small part of who I was-

But will they be?
And does it matter?

I feel alive writing these lines now
Soon I will go out to the morning prayer-

I believe that God must save us all
Or we will not be saved-

I am who I am and still me
I know I am real for now-

The dreams of a lifetime are in these words
The hope of an immortality I will probably never have-

I pray that God will be good to those close to me
Who I deeply care about-

I may be nothing
But I pray for them
As if they too are real-
And live in a world at times happy and beautiful.