Be I They Poem by Benjamin Rome Clarke

In the light of all known and passed,
The night is yet dark.
Once embraced, a disposition births wonder.
Had I, were I, had I of other persuasions been,
The woman, the gynophile,
The other, the undefined,
Be I her, be I he,
If only be I they, might have done I as have done I?
At musings mine come only grey sounds
That twist the heard,
The complex by the perplexed crushed.
Yet, yet, I say yet.
Be I her, be I he.
And yet, be I they,
And yet, be I they, be I as undone?
Be I less more than more?
Be I more less than less?
Grey sound nowhere goes.
Unfold another musing, discrete night.
Another thought, with light lost soon.
Yet ever there, be I none but I.
Until the night.