My Self Poem by Ravi Kopra

I also have my crochet.
It dates from when I began to think.
Stitch on stitch forming a whole without a whole...
A cloth, and I don't know if it's for a garment or nothing.

-Fernando Pessoa

***

I have my mouse
it needs no wires, it has its blue tooth
I move it freely, it does not squeal
when I move my fingers on its head
fingers move on the keyboard
keep on hopping spot to spot
words, clauses, phrases, sentences, stanzas
grow effortlessly from them not knowing
if they are worth anything or just trash.

It does not bother me, I keep on writing
whatever comes to my mind in a flash
and disappears next moment with the blink of eye
leaving something for posterity in black and white
I kill my time, else time will kill me
I have nothing of significance to tell
for in everything I see nothing
and there is nothing that has something for me.

I pass my days in this haze and so I pass my nights
awake all night and asleep all day the next day.
And one day I will not get up at all
My body will go to the elements it is made of
and my soul - what soul! - there is no such thing
My soul is me, myself, I am my soul in being
My awareness of my own world and the world I see.