I Will Know When

I’m beginning this message my self,

To the self that is listening: why did we

Ever separate.

My message writes with the ink of all my thoughts,

With each sunrise and sundown spent inscribing

Hemispheres to ask the question

Of completion.

The slower I act, the more action is delivered,

Delivered in parts.

What it is, it tries to tell, describing dichotomy.

For my cause, I look to the world and that old world is

Just new words asking me

For its cause.

What in return is ever written but absence of experience? To pretend

To be that which I am not is valuable enough.

A process by eliminating experience to know that

Which I am.

When no longer have I plagiarized points of view, I will

Seal it.

When no longer I search for the address, I will

Post it.

And when I know my message is me,

I will open it.