Tango of processes

We are not made of time

But processes.

Our DNA a slow dance of cells

Regenating themselves

And making mistakes in

This rejuvenation process.

Our life an endless dance

Around the axis of our

All-assuming ego,

A preoccupation with flesh

And nails and hair follicles,

With all processes visible and

External,

An exaggerated attachment

To our unique identity, a number,

Our search for ourselves,

A solemn hymn of survival,

Our soul and everything that’s ours, ours

To hold, a process of

Passion for life

transforming

To and from addiction,

A procession

Of unintended thoughts,

unconscious

Actions, a muscle

spasm, an eye twitch,

an optical illusion,

These tricks our mind pulls,

Ceaselessly, seamlessly,

To convince us we are more worthy

Of survival

Than these myriads

Of mystical ‘other’ creatures.

A tango to the music of matter,

Ignorance and conviction.