Who am I
is a far more complex
question. I am
the sweet singer of silken dreams
that pass through the minds of monolithic machines, I am
the kind caretaker of forbidden forms, who snuggle up against me
but can never get warm, I am
the hard-bitten wish-list enthusiast of dismissed views
that were once unquestionably true, but that now are only kept
and understood by few
to none,
including me. I leave
them presents every year beneath my Christmas tree. I am
the morning dew, in a valley undersea. I am
the question in you
that says: "huh?"
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