There is a whole world out there,
and in it I am neither child nor woman;
atheist nor believer;
scientist nor shaman.
In it I am myself in the purest sense,
the unchained duality,
and I am neither good nor bad,
white nor black,
male nor female,
Eastern nor Western.
I am the patient and the doctor,
both my own cure and disease.
In this old new world,
I am not the dream you created:
I am my own blurry image of myself.
I can push the boundaries whichever way I like,
even though you may not appreciate
the direction in which I am heading.
I am an artist on my own terms,
whether I ever write another verse, or not.
I am the me I don’t know yet.
I am the you I haven’t met.
Finally, in this everlasting confusion of mine,
I am also the us we have long since hoped to find.