There have been many versions of me

 

There have been many versions of me.

None of them wrong.

Only unfinished;

quietly waiting for the rest of the shape

to finally form.

Each one was real enough to leave a trace,

yet each blurred when I looked away,

like handwriting left in the sand.

Not portals, not doors,

just openings in the fabric of

a greater self,

sliding aside as I passed through.

So I kept on walking, without knowing

whether I was losing something

or letting it change.

There was never a first step,

never a place to arrive.

No beginning, and no destinations.

Only the quiet, endless fact 

of becoming.

                           -- Dima Ivx