I wil remember

I am no one if not not-me,
and this I keep forgetting;
if I settle for this being,
then I’ve forgotten myself;
not, mind you, a self
which I can identify
(that will never please me),
but myself as only “I see”;
not seeing nor thinking
itself, which is in danger
of this forgetting pattern;
not claiming nor knowing,
wherein lies certain death;
no, truth lies in denying
(dare we say, forgetting)
oneself, as only emptiness
can learn one own truth.

I’ve become a nagging dis-
satisfaction with non-doing,
I’ve become full of what
is in truth much of nothing
doing; you say you love me,
but what am I but another
nothing-doer?  You try to
fill me with significance
as your other but know only
not-me, not selfless vision;
can two share love if one
cannot see an others truth?

If I did again, and if I forget
my self—will you narrow
the gap, or will I be forever
a stranger?  Will you try to
follow my différance, or
will “I be” ever the same?

And this I must remember:
We are no one if not not-we.

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