I'm a song unfinished, a tale untold,
A river of consequences at flood.
I'm a portrait in clay, too soft to hold
In your hands, just dust and water made mud.
I'm tied to the Earth by biology,
With distant cousins across all the globe;
And yet no one else is the same as me,
From my worn-out heels to my frontal lobe.
In seven short years I'll have disappeared,
My old cells returned to dust on the Earth;
Yet I always grow the same scruffy beard,
And my memories dwell in the same berth.
I'm always brand new, yet I'm always me:
A beginning and a totality.
Stuck in a hospital bed, a person has time to think the strangest things…