I am not the snarled strings of the spool in my lap
I am not the hours of smoke creating clouds around my head
I am not the shards of Time I fractured with primeval knives
I am not the flecks of red swimming in my eyes
I am not the silhouette that left this room in 1987
I am not the apparition that floated back in 1998
I am not the Passage of minutes soaked in chemicals and sanguinity
I am not the whiff of emptiness that abounds in these vaults
I am not this urbane void
I am not the subliminal lyric I plagiarize
I am not the perspicacity of this transient thought
Source: In Yogic tradition, Mahat is considered to be the Great Self or the emergence of intelligence in the human form.
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