Self Consciousness

Ungainly, flightless,
with a stunted sense
of sight and smell --
there must have been something
you felt I deserved
in recompense.

I would have chosen
a pair of sturdy wings,
or a slippery skin for diving
deep beneath the waves.

Why the perverse sense of humor
in choosing my gift --
a second, inner self,
aware of my awareness?

His is the voice 
I cannot silence,
who complicates 
with memory
and fear of what's to come.
 
Would that I lived 
each moment as a time
unto itself,
without a thought
of two hours past
or hence.

Would that I observed
the waves and clouds
and trees and birds
without watching myself
watch.
 
If he were gone from me,
I would be reborn
second by second,
living life for no other reason
than living.

No sense of history.

No thought of ending.

Eternal.

Immortal.

Scott Speck
08/12/2002