A Dream of Being

As I bob about the cosmological soup,

a one-legged amoeba circling a tiny corner of the Petri,

I entertain myself with ideas of potency and purchase.

I catch echoes of myself in the aether

and recognize my own operating system running in the background.

The search for Self has produced nothing but, and I marvel at my immenseness.

Finding neither comfort nor fear I return to contemplating the mundane, and prefer not to engage the loneliness that has been revealed.