Unoriginated

Have I ever said anything truly original
Can I write a single word that is mine alone
Can I will one thought into being —
One not borrowed, not received

Do I say anything for myself, by myself
Or only parrot the words I’ve heard or read —
Think only thoughts that arrive unbidden

Write a single word that never existed before
One sentence — that belongs to no one
But me

Here I sit — facing the wall
These words, my own feet
Resting, and awake
And there is nothing — not a single thing
That needs — to be done

How can I speak, or think
How can I move, or see —
When not even the faintest glimpse appears
Of the one who is awake
Resting, and here

Must I not conclude — absurdly, incoherently —
I am not
And all here is — are words, thoughts
Feet and wall — sound and flesh
Feeling and sensation

I must be there to know, to see, to name
All what I say is
But I am not —
So who remains to say
That what I say is — truly is

I am not — thus
Is what I am