i look for sounds, long
slow and drawn out like
tendrils spread through
all i can see without
allowing Me to overshadow
what might be holding me
aloft or cohered into
a sound perhaps of myself
tied to letters, droplets
falling in a corner ground
with a hopefully rising
scent to cause a passerby
  pause in remembering
  our collective weight
  only for a moment
for your sake and mine
  paradoxically
because we have so many
ways through the fields
and far along still to go

only a couple days left
and i will be a person
again with an identity
nobody can dispute which
comes with paper print
and pictures, secret
seals and certain patterns

unfortunately this means
i must be at a space/time
specific coordinate which
basically means leaving
the trees for packed people
in office lights carrying
correct information and
a fee to be recognized
as me