[This poem was inspired by the above photo. This sculpture was made by Nathan Sawaya, whose website is http://www.BrickArtist.com]

What makes me? It isn’t my body.

A mirror is not me, so says the literati.

My arm is not me, neither is my heart-

(Although, if I lost it, finding Me would be hard).

My actions are not me; I’m not a machine.

That I am only my deeds seems slightly obscene.

Am I my ideas? My original thoughts?

But everything I make has, in some sense, been taught.

Could I be emotions? No, that is not truth;

I’m not just a reaction of chemical juice.

Am I only flesh? I say that’s unjust.

I am more than meat, and much more than dust.

I have life in me, but how fragile it is!

I cannot understand any more than this.

What makes me? Is it my soul?

What about my spirit? What makes me whole?

I have 4-D questions in a 3-D realm;

My mind does not stretch, and I’m overwhelmed.

No answer to this question: what can I be?

Deep inside myself, I find only me.

Original poem by Kiwi.

If you like it, let me know! Have a great day. 😀

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