Becoming ( Archived) (5)

Becoming

This entity
Is never finished.
A work in process.
But how to
Measure progress?

I am not,
I am yet to be,
I am becoming.

There it is,
Nascent, callow,
A seed in darkness,
Eternity cloaked in
A small slice of
Dark, meaty matter,
Unseen but felt,
Unreal but strong.
It may be my soul,
But it feels hot,
A fiery, burning coal,
Awaiting awakenment.
Then, perhaps, to burn
The world to ash.

I am not,
I am yet to be,
I am becoming.

Probable, but impossible,
A toe in the water,
My eyes and ears
See and hear, and
The sensation of heat
From a mug of tea
In my hands,
And the wind on
My face coming
From the sea,
This is me.

I am not,
I am yet to be,
I am becoming.

Becoming more,
What more is there?
What is this faith,
All but a wraith?
That misery is null,
That life is neither
Adventurous nor dull,
But more, and yet less
A deadly game of chess,
Where stalemate
Is as close to winning
As you might hope.
And yet you remain
Hanging on this rope,
Fermenting.

I am not,
I am yet to be,
I am becoming.

You are missed.

So nice to see your poetry again.

Cali isn't really that far from Oregon ya know. Disneyland starts at the border.

You devil