I’ve been looking for myself.
As I looked, I thought
“Maybe my self is
like the pea the prince’s mother
hid under all those mattresses
and
I will just know it is there.”
But I didn’t find it difficult to sleep,
or more difficult than usual, I suppose.
I kept looking.
“Maybe I will suddenly awake from a deep slumber
to find everyone knows exactly who I am.”
But waking up never felt much different,
except some wakings were more groggy than others.
I kept looking.
“Maybe a cricket, or a genie, or a fairy
will guide me to my self.”
But no magical creatures showed themselves,
except for the occasional squirrel or bird
foraging outside my window.
I kept looking.
And as long as I kept looking for
some sign,
some revelation,
some declaration
from outside myself,
it never came.
And if you keep waiting for
the fairy tale,
the silver bullet,
the surprise inheritance,
your story might never begin.