Who I Am


In the morning my eyes are heavy,
My coat, tinted by algae
does not camouflage in the city
as it does in the rainforest
A bulb of guilt pulsates in my conscious
For falling vulnerable to sloth
Because I know that come noon,
I will rest under the relentless sun
And rely solely on my whiskers
to adhere to the outside world
As I allow the bulb to burst and disperse
Through every exhale of my meditation
I am lost in the midst of sunlight,
Prowling through my dreams
Perhaps avoiding the reality of the day
As the ruler of my actions,
I need not to justify my rest
Until the hours of dusk call for regrouping
At dusk I am solitary
amongst a loosely organized group
Conveniently earless because
Through growth and maturity
I have become less playful
and tolerant of close contact
But I know that, come evening
I will work under the moon
In search of enlightenment and zen;
Both of which require much practice
I lose myself in thought of who I am
Or who I will become

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