Here in the Light

that forever fights the darkness, we exist. Incomplete objects;

nothing more than sentience yet always there’s a surplus;

effervescence of neurological excess, & the contingent biological flesh deceived by the thoughts that haunt us & always finding ways to evade our gaze.

We call this thing our Self.

We can never own it, never know it, by demanding or calmly asking

but we can find it, sometimes, in other eyes.