On being


I keep reading about just being,

like I was being something else.

Is it hard for others, this being,

the being of themselves?

Maybe I don’t know my being

maybe I don’t know at all.

The nature of what the hell is being.

Can anyone know or tell?

I don’t want to appear unknowing, I know what being means,

but is it I that does the looking out of this face being me?

or is the me the me inside you, that sees the me in me?

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