Am I my body? Am I my pain?
Look back at a feint siesta
With nostalgia for a time
On the past that is living now but
Inaccessible to me
That is not a ghost but
A living thing as real as
The past was real at the time
Is now somehow breathed in the air of a
Future unsent but unsealed
That breathes back to me stranded here
Constantly in the now that knows no limit
But can never be found as it
Spins me round its vortex in
A hundred overlapping ways that cancel
Each other out in a loud crash as
Silent as the big bang must be all these
Years ago again in my mind eye.
Being Every Day 