Someday I'm afraid I'll wake up
To find out that I'm not me any longer;
That I've become a stranger-
Or more like a nodding acquaintance-
But still not really me anymore.
Once I dreamed I was at the store,
Where I used my credit card, and when I signed
The signature slip, I realized at that instant
That I had forgotten how to write like me-
And perhaps even,
What name to put down there?
The world is so full of things not-us,
We are like a fly speck on society,
Or a one-celled amoeba within creation,
And the fact that we exist at all is an enigma,
An implausible, unbelievable paradox
That strains imagination.
But don't blink-
Patti Masterman
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/don-t-blink-4/
