Undiscovered Civilization

And then this morning, as I was trying to remember my dreams,
a whole civilization of selves popped up, floating on the surface
of unending consciousness. Each thought having begged,
borrowed, stolen in order to find some passage into the
parts of my being, deep, hidden, wild, full of stories.
What do we really know of who and what we are?
Some group within with easel, brush and pen,
clay, graphic software, invent us each moment,
sometimes to our satisfaction, never to really delight others.
And as each moment ends, another begins, inner artists
working with madness to compose another version of "us,"
only to find the masterpiece will only have a short life.
We, adding chemistry, can at times feel it's about all we
can do. We know better, but it's not obvious just who is
doing the knowing.
Ronnie Bock
1-10-10