where it starts. inside or out.

take all my broken pieces
and start over again.
rearrange the reflection
distorted in the patterns
etched in the glass.

out of focus.
except for the ego.

i wonder,
if we were born
unhearing and silent
would we associate thought
as coming from the head?
and if so,
is it (the brain)
the source
of who we refer to
as 'I',
or is it the heart?

i should step outside myself.
out of this wintersleep.
into something verging
on orchestral.
symphonic.

sing to me.
i am beginning to breathe you.

teach me like some holy war
the way time unravels
and falls at my feet.
that although the picture
remains unchanged
we can't be shown
what we're not ready to see.
that scars hide on the inside
and the only walls
are in our minds.

no longer straddling realities.
choose one.
as though life
is averse to overcrowding.
dilution defeats the purpose.

so bring it on.
press hard.
harder.
let the ground
shift beneath my feet.