Where Iam From Poem by Michael Walkerjohn

This question begs an answer
of me, often this is asked
of origin or of pretense
in present or in past.
The same comes from every nature
every sector; each and every caste.
I alone stand here on this percipience
that peak if you will; or that perch above all else...
As high as imagination; as low as my best of friends
in freedom as that single sourced cool waters.
I alone wash away all of humanity's sin... Whatever!
Come; what ever done, what ever ends may each merit.
Or not! You decide if- - My being here is too be pleasant
or in your irreality- - FILLED WITH PAIN and SNOT! - -
Really, this is that simplification, that blithe supplicant
that unknown pharmacy or bane...
So... This does have a beginning
So... surely it will end- -
simplification's reins IAM a holding
realization's strain on blood stained hand
the question to each of you is thus.
What is held firmly in that other- - HAND!
Where IAM from is nothing really
fore that position is high above your heads.
Unseen, unfeeling, unrecognized by the majority
and denied by much of the remaining minority.
Leaving so few that ponder it, this perhaps due
to blind luck or providential happenstance
of this I doubt!
So... Shout out in exuberant voices
step up mightily or simply whimper and fall out
either or; the change will be poured
out and upon and through each
and every body...
"And you can take that to all of your banks! "