By Lucas Steele

I know not the spool that started our thread.

Wire which pierced our flesh and bound us.

We are not the pose we are stuck with,

For I am autonomous and persist.

We are not the brains we were given,

For I need not reason to exist.

We are not our hearts, our lungs or thoughts,

For my actions are but a history, a wave.

We are not our veins and blood,

For when I run dry I outlive the soil, brave

We are not the crashingocean or the tumblingsea

For I live in constantfear of our paths crossing right in front ofme,

We are not our brittlebones

For my grave is but a throne.

A room with no space for any others,

No air between my collection of ashes,

Epochs to crack the coffin and mix me indistinguishable from the dirt.

But I am dead, I am not the earth.

When I am but untraceable.

When the last utterance of my name cannot be tracked marked found located perceived thought of dreamt of remembered,

I stick with my name and persist, my lungs, my heart and brain outlive the soil, I brave the crashingoceans, that’s the reason, exist. I crossed the tumblingseas, I fought my constantfear, and now my thoughts. my words.

Live on

The spool runs empty, but I cannot end.

We are but one tree connected by our impossible roots.

We are but one thought shared by two

And when I am alone and I don’t know how to be,

Rearrange me and I stay the same

Make a mess of me, and I remain.

My fingers just threads bound together with yours

Run your fingers across me. love me like noone else can.

It is then you will see we are nothing but the dirt.