All of the people who I knew from this corner of the world are gone. Those who left never came back, and the rest of them went to heaven. There were weeds and flowers, too, that came and went. There were always blades of grass, but their characters were as indiscernible as their leaves. And I never met the neighbors.

Here I am, and I don’t know who I am. Everything is so different from who it was before.

I was once mighty, and I believed in lasting legacy, but the shade of my growth and the fruits of my labor will never be enjoyed forever. All that I had I thought was useful to me until I saw how useless it was to something else. So they will cut me down and pave a path out of my skin, which in time will be as invisible as dirt.

Here I am, and I don’t know what I am. Everything is so different from what it was before.

Here is a corner of the world where I put down roots in shifting soil. The weltering weather cheerlessly broke me, and now I crumble in the cold warmth of waning suns. My roots vainly cling to a foundation which I thought I had owned — turns out it was never mine.

Here I am, and I don’t know where I am. Everything is so different from where it was before.

I stand paralyzed in the time as the time flows away. I thought we were passing together. Yet my walls collapse under the weight of creeping soil as the sagging edges of my youth hang from my cheekbones and jowls. My innocence was lost in a phase only known to gravity and the earth.

Here I am, and I don’t know when I am. Everything is so different from when it was before.

At this corner, I had it all figured out. I had reason. I had purpose. I had virtues. And now my relevance resides in a stupor that spews nonsense to empty winds. What was this all for? You tell me. Because I’ve run out of questions and answers.

Here I am, and I don’t know why I am. Everything is so different from why it was before.

This is it. Maybe. I wish I knew. Come see the place. I’ve erected some boundaries to keep others away, and they are built out of another philosopher’s scars. They won’t protect me from what is sinking beneath. A day passes. And another. And I still feel here — whatever here is and however here works. Oh I don’t know. Oh. I don’t know. Oh. HA! I don’t know!

Here I am, and I don’t know how I am. Everything is so different from how it was before.