E Pluribus Unum or A Brush with The Ego
©October 24, 2014
By Vijaya Sundaram
Muted voices, many minds
Jostling, moving in an abyss,
Vie for recognition
Vie for space
Vie for sound.
One of many,
I jostle, and am jostled.
Yesterday,
In blind darkness
Unseeing, flailing,
Bodiless, falling,
I felt the void
Cradling me.
If this is death,
So be it, I thought.
If this is life,
I won’t have it, I muttered.
One of many
You melt and re-shape
The me I knew.
Why? I ask.
You answer:
Out of many, one.
No!
Smelt me, slag me
Cut me, drag me
Back into the me
I used to be.
Take the unused bits,
Make them fit someone
Else, then!
I never want
To see her or him.
He or she is the Many.
You might be the Many, too.
I am always the One.
_____________________________________________________________