I am not the testosterone in my body.
I am not the life in my veins – I am not its lack
in the surrounding air.
I am not an image,
I am not thread.
Interconnected or woven,
I am not a marionette.
I am a slow and silent victory.
I am not what I once was.
I am nothing, I stand nowhere-
I am content with being lost.
Alternately, my bliss matters not
for all that matters to the heart
is a continuance, and that,
is exactly what I am.