Many Facets - Poem by Mike Adam
Who is it that dances through the dawn
That plays the tambourine
That drinks and loves and
It is this I that has no truth
No sense of self, this role
Played in a suit, a tie,
Hard hat or shorts.
Who is it that lives in summer climes
And winter chill?
It is I, it is not I
No self there is nor ever there
Not I, the I that rarely is,
A diamond rough, cut
Of stuff ineffable.
Who is it that sees me now?
Why you, mirror of this sigh
And you are you, who you?
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