Mike Adam

Many Facets - Poem by Mike Adam

Who is it that dances through the dawn
That plays the tambourine
That drinks and loves and
Lies abandoned?

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
There was

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?

Topic(s) of this poem: self

Form: Occasional Poem

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Poem Submitted: Thursday, October 29, 2015

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