Song of Myself

Some midnight rambling of mine, written for an English assignment based on Walt Whitman

Why is time?
We flow through it, each stealing, yet getting their share,
We grab for more, but it slips through our fingers,
We snatch it, but only get what we have,
We look for it, but what is it?
What is time?
And what does time see when it sees me?
And does time see?

What is matter?
Why does matter matter?
Why do we think so highly of it?
Why is it all that consumes us, physical things?
Why do we need it?
We look for it, but need more,
We grab it, but cannot keep it,
We take from others, but never have enough,
We feel it, see it, hear it, but what is the point?
What is matter?
And what does it show in me?
And do others see, hear, feel in it of me?

What is space?
We all see it, but do we?
We all know it is there, but do we feel it? Do we hear it? Is it really there?
We know how it works,
We have explained everything,
We need to know everything…
But yet, space stays, unobservable, haunting us, wondering
What does it see?
Does it see me?

We wonder, we observe, we explain, but yet -
It haunts us, we cannot know it all, we cannot know what effect it has on us
No matter how hard we look, we cannot see space
We cannot touch time
We cannot feel how matter matters
And we wonder, we wonder why
Why does time exist?
Why does matter truly matter?
Why does space fill everything and nothing?
Why is it there?
Why are we there?
Why am I there?
And it all comes back to me.
Why am I? Where am I? Who am I?
The one question that everybody asks -
Who am I?

Time, matter, space -
They define the universe,
They define everybody,
They ask three questions -
What do I have time for?
What matters to me?
Who do I have space for?

Time
So much of it, yet so little,
It says so much of a person, their time
How do they use it?
Why do they use it?
Is it important to them?
And how do I? Why do I? And is it important to me?
I go to school
Hours spent within its waiting halls
Hours with the fickle temperature
Hours with droning teachers
Hours with things to learn that I will never use
Hours, forced to be here, for what?
Hours that I must spend… but would I?
Hours I might use for others?
Hours with which to do… nothing.
For that is what I do with my time alone -
Nothing.
And hours after - for extracurriculars
Hours to use my time wisely
Hours to avoid waste, to hone my talents
Hours to avoid being at home, where I do -
Nothing.
And after the extracurriculars?
Hours at home, most in bed
Hours lying awake, trying to fall asleep
Hours spent trying to rest, to get a break
Hours wasted, doing -
Nothing.
And perhaps there lies the point -
I use my time to avoid nothing.
To avoid being home
To avoid wasting it
To avoid forcing myself to take a break.
My time is used to use my time.
I waste it in order to not waste it,
I trade it for meagre benefits,
But those are better than -
Nothing.
Time.

Matter
A verb, a noun, an adjective
What matters?
What is matter?
What is matter of fact?
What does matter of fact matter matter to me?
What does any matter matter to me?
What does matter to me?
What does?
What?
Friends
Introverted, yes, but friends
I don’t talk very often, but they matter
I might not be super excited to see them, but they matter
I might not see them as the bright spot of every day, but they matter
I might not make it look like it does, but they matter
They might not think they do, but that doesn’t change it -
They matter to me.
I try to be there, even when I don’t talk
I try to see things from their side
I try to talk when they need it
I try to respect their bounds
I try to help with things
I try to love them
I try to care
I try
I…
But what matters to me isn’t about me
It’s about my friends.
But it’s not just my friends.
Writing matters to me
The thrill of words on the page
The questions of how it will turn out
The attachment to a beautifully written character
The adventure driven home by the exquisite plot
The joy of knowing I did it
The accomplishment
The hope for more
The imagination
The everything
The pattern
Writing is so much more than just words, just like
I am so much more than just what matters to me
Than just what I have time for
Than just who I make space for
Than just what can be written in a poem about myself
Than just another person in this ravaged world
Than just one more person in need of help
Than just Simon, or Charles, or Freddy, or whatever I’m called
I matter to others
I matter to friends
And I matter to Jesus
We all do.
Of course, with writing, reading
Every book, from author backwards
Because doing it the right way isn’t enough
Because somebody did it - no copying
Because I don’t turn down a dare
Because they enthrall me
Because I should
Because…
200
200 books last year
200 different stories
200 plots
200 sets of characters to love
200 times spent well reading them
200 hours, at least
200 of 800…
So many, yet so few
And though I haven’t read many so far this year,
They still matter to me
The library still matters to me
Reading still matters to me
No matter what.
Things matter.

Space.
The mystery of nothing
What was there before there was?
Who could be there?
If we were, what would we see?
Before creation… formless and empty, just space
And God had space for me.
He could have left it as it was, good
He could have left man perfect, good
He could have done without me, good
But with people, with me, very good
He has space for me, for you, for us
But who do I have space for?
Family?
They try, but it doesn’t work
They set an impossible bar
They ace the ACT
They win every award
They set a bar of perfection
They never let me do better
They say I don’t have to be as good, but
They leave such a legacy that I have to live up to it
They set me impossible standards
They leave me what they did
They won every single award
They got a perfect GPA
They were popular
They aced ACT
They loved
They knew
They…
They put so much stress on me
They make me be more than I can handle
They mold me into who they were, rather than who I am
I’m not perfect
I don’t ace anything
I’m not popular
I won’t win any awards, likely
I keep my GPA by the skin of my teeth
I don’t have it all figured out like them
I don’t have my friends as the most popular people in the school
I don’t know everybody personally
I won’t be elected festival king
I won’t be missed by everybody once I graduate
I can’t live up to it, no matter how hard I try
Their standards have no space for me
So it’s hard to find space for them
I constantly have to look up, be perfect
Never have a problem
Know everything about everything
Have every line down pat
Be the best actor no matter what
Be friends with everybody
Keep track of everything going on
Do every extracurricular at the same time
And I can’t
I don’t like being home, because I just see the standard
It must have been nice to be the oldest brother
Before the standards started… or were they just as high for him?
At least he didn’t have a reputation to keep hold of
A legacy before he even started
A vision of who’d he be without his own choice
And that’s what I see at home.
There’s so much space taken by my perfect brothers,
There’s no space for me.
So what do I have space for?
I can make space for friends
There’s always room for one more
One more person some friends knows somehow
One more extrovert who loves talking
One more person who needs help
Because that’s the sort of friends I have -
Birds of a feather flock together.
I go to the people that need help because that’s who I am
I need help
And so do they
That’s where the trust comes in
We both know we don’t have it figured out
We both try to help the other figure it out
We both figure ourselves out, at least somewhat, accidentally along the way
We both stay friends because we still need help
We both have space for each other
And thus I try to find space for me
I don’t often have space for me
I try so hard to keep on top of everything
Finish every homework assignment
Ace every test
Learn every line
Help every friend
Fix every problem
Write every word of a novel
But no space for me
No rest, no sleep
I lie awake in bed, trying to sleep
Trying to take a break
And it doesn’t work
But I’m trying
Trying to find space for myself
Trying to take a break every so often
Trying to give myself space to not be perfect
Trying to be myself, not who I’m supposed to be
Trying to help others help me
Trying to let my light shine
Trying to be all I can be
Trying to spread love
Trying to keep up
Trying to care
Trying…
Trying to have more space so I fit too
Space.

Time, matter, space
What does that mean for you?
What do you have time for?
What matters to you?
What people do you have space for?
What will you say, now that you have heard me?
And maybe, you’ll wonder - who am I?