The “I” sits on the couch contemplating 
its existence. 

Matter encounters matter. 

What is the matter, with Matter? 
We hear that we are separate. 
“One hand. One body. One mind”. 
Only “1”, of each of us. 

Who are we?

I sits there, awaits—
eternal silence, without wind. 

What would you be without it, Matter?

No answer.

In quiet breath a bird 
raps on the windowsill. 
A conversation from a long time ago
almost.

As if it heard …my Matter.