I am the sum of time forever.
I am the sum of none of it.
I am only a starving witness.
I am alien to Earth.
Was I born?
This morning, in fact.
Did I die?
Always.
Am I alive?
As alive as you want to be.
As dead as you please.
All is story.
Even feeding my self?
Feeding the self is one of the richest of stories.
And the gathering of sex?
Perhaps the greatest illusion of all.
To fight for the continuation of self when self will never be.
Am I not compelled to go on?
“Go on” is motivated for the end of you.
What will proceed of me?
All the lies that entered you, and all the lies you cooked up for your self.
Am I a liar?
God is a liar, so yes – as above, so below.
But a delicious, loving lie, just a lovely story on a cave wall.
Just a shadow extending from a rare animal.
Just the greatest game ever played.
