A Passing Day
what change will change,
who it was that was you
Yesterday
What name will title
who you plan to be today
and will you change its meaning
By choosing the same name
as you choose again on yesterday
and the day before that
and on every other yesterday
Were you, are you, always to be
the same person
you think yourself to be
Could you, should you, consider maybe
that you just, might be, someone other
than you intend yourself to be
When you admitted you didnt know that person
any better than you do me
Today as you did before
On some forgotten yesterday
How is it to be measured then
the instrument that measures us
and what purpose would it serve
if we corrected it
because our precepts said thus.
What meaning is gathered
by giving a thing with no substance
a title that merely imposes limits
on its purpose
I’ve heard it said
often by my own voice
That the self is an illusion
For it merely exists
In our own perception of what might be
Yet the illusion is real, is it not?
For if our perceptions could perceive all
and all could perceive
Could it not be said then,
That we are not one, but many?
And that our thoughts here
would be measured in days.
Again I question,
Perhaps is it then,
That the passing of a day
is the passing away of a self
and the dawn of a new day
Is the birth of a new perspective
A Transient progression with little pattern
After then what we chose to remember
From the legends on who we might have been
many yesterdays before
The question truly is then of this
will you choose to sleep and pretend to be
The legendary entity of what you perceive yourself to be
or will you wake and ponder instead,
Upon where you are and what you were
And begin the day Declaring,
I know not this person!
And yesterday possesed me,
but today I arise.