Children of the stars:
that is all we are.
Nothing less, nothing more.
Chaos transmuting, glowing,
necessarily nothing and no one.
Egos, fate: all in what we make.
Trace a personal worldline
back far enough, your journey
is bound to escape the earth.
Accepting reincarnation,
considering origins,
it makes sense enough.
And I never saw my face.
Never caught a reflection
in my impossible memories.
Recollections of a planetary desert,
a world in ruins,
chiefly subterranean,
however likely a delusion,
is not necessarily too far out there,
so why does the mere question
make me so fucking scared?
On top of it all,
recall:
their nature is deceit,
that I have gleaned,
so why should their accusations
amount to anything?
Remember:
no one
can tell you what or who
you are.
No one
can tell you who or what
you are…
Transmissions to Earth 