I feel like I don’t belong.
A woman among men.
A girl among women.
A master among doctors.
A practitioner among philosophers.
An academic among ministers.
A minister among theologians.
A fundamentalist among universalists.
A heretic among adherents.
But if we are all one
at the beginning and at the end—
singularity and Transcendent Reality—
then why can I not sense myself
a drop within the ocean,
a blue within the rainbow,
a thread within the quilt,
a dust within the universe?
And yet perhaps that is what scares me more:
to be incinerated by the all-consuming Core.
For I find a desire to remain
This thing called Identity,
which surely must be
is something that claims what is me
is most certainly not thine.
Yet this carrot I am eating will soon no longer be Other.
And unless I begin to hoard
each clipped nail,
and flaked piece of skin,
that carrot you-in-the-future are eating will be composed of the compost of me!
So what is this part of me that feels I don’t belong?
My subatomic particles differ none from that star!
Perhaps it is nothing more than emergent consciousness
rejecting the unconscious revelatory hint
that constantly whispers, "Your Identity is a myth"?