Song of No One

One year and a few existential crises later

I have become consumed,

By what I was, what I am and what I ought to be,

Swimming deep in the nebulous abyss,

Wading through every crevice,

Looking for an answer so elusive,

I have become consumed.

Who am I?

Am I my labels — A man, a son, a lover or a coder?

Am I a peculiar arrangement of carbon integrating sensory information,

At the mercy of inconsequential cartesian reduction?

Consequentially, I am no one,

I am not my beard, not my abs,

I am not my conquests, not my loss,

I am not my knowledge, not my gaps,

Consequentially, I am no one.

Being no one is liberating,

Liberty, however, isn’t without burden,

The burden to choose and the burden to act,

The burden to recognize and rise above or to recognize and exploit.

I choose to revel in the absurd and roll above,

I choose compassion and kindness,

I choose no labels,

I choose this song — a song of no one.