You are multitudes,
composed of plenties.
Things aren't just simply things:
They are a certain version of themselves
interconnected by meanings
you create.
You sculpture
realities flavored in your curiosity.
Your first breath: a hand grenade big bang.
Your last one: collapsing to singularity again.
You share secrets,
like speech bubble treasure jars
filled with all those small noticings,
sparkling particulars,
your beautiful mind raised to the peerage
being worthy of remembrance.
Like a painting capturing hyperreal truth
You are a world on its own.
You are particular you.

Kerim Mallée

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