Old Self

The nameless gnawing at my heart weighs me down

it has metamorphosed into an animal much larger than me

it has become more than my questions, more than my desires

I was once bounded by my knowing what I am for.. not anymore

the absence of familiar fences brought me a bewilderingly foreign reality.

Somewhere in my tired memory, my old self  asked me

how many lives have we lived? 

with an indifferent shrug I replied "I only know that we've died before".