Maybe my ‘person’ may be boiled down to a couple components.
And these represent me; they are me, at least as I see.
Their names are ‘the will’ and ‘the wilderness.’
And there is no one way.
Some say there is tradition.
Yes, this much I know to be true.
But tradition, specifically in severity,
[either being upheld or abandoned absolutely]
is accompanied with these impossible questions:
What within compels me to reproduce the past in the present?
And, the less realistic: how long will it take for the past to disappear?
There He walked- blankets of heat and dust
as godless as the day He was born
scavengers ahead, behind
only insects surrounding
the empty words.
We weren’t fruitless.
Not originally, not ever.