I am not a Child wearing a brightred Superhero cape.
I am not a Bird, disturbed by and dreaming about a party.
I am not the forgotten Mule, raising my voice with bottle in hand, screaming for 25 years gone.
I am not the Girlsolo at the end of the bar with an eye to the door for Kindred.
I am not the shadow-wed Lady who forgets the Truth and breaches the wall.
I am not the Woodenman, hands dancing in the blueroom.
I am not the Darkfriend, imbibing the Moon’s silver honey on the waves.
And I am Not speaking or stretching. And I am Not mending or minding. And I am Not praying or pining. And I am Not weeping or weaving. And I am Not touching or taking.
And what will it yield — to add the sum of all I am Not to the space stretched between the charges where Mass converges to a point of Light?
The Allofnothing plus the Nothing —
What could be the Yield?