Who am I?
why is a white thread on the edge of my thick black, thin blue Buddha head?
and where is the hair that grows out from instead?
is it not here, within the skull of the inner universe?
the refreshingly still mind of the azure emptiness you traverse?
what is this icy throne I sit upon
if not for the chlorofluorocarbon, the scentless senseless paragon
which brings the sky down but me closer to my liaison?
how does my voice carry back to me
that which I lost but only temporarily?
and when will this never ending line
bring me about and make my spine align?
who am I if not divine?