by Nick Gisburne
I can’t control or comprehend a mind
That tells me I was born to be a god.
I am. I’m all that is or was, designed
By nothing. How mysterious. How odd.
If these are thoughts, ideas, they’re the first.
Embarrassing. Do better. Let me try.
I sense... I need... what is this feeling? Thirst?
An emptiness, to fill. With what? And why?
Right there. I made a something. What is that?
Perhaps I need to bless it with a name.
‘Infinity’? Too grand, too formal. ‘Hat’.
Too tiny for my head. Well, that’s a shame.
It’s tricky, but I’m getting there. Alright,
To banish darkness, let there be... a kite.
