Brilliantly.

"How are you?"

I hate that question. At some point I realized...it's not as though I'm important enough that my state of being will have any impact on anything. Or maybe external import isn't the issue. Maybe state of being really is meaningful for some people, and indicates significant shifts in their world. Not me, though. I am so moved so often that changes in location hardly make a difference. Transience, baby. I carry with me every "how" I've ever been. I've spent my life watching the interplay of experience, and spent my life imprinting myself with it.

Everything is, and I am.

I am. I am an amalgam of the whole, of every felt or witnessed, suspected and known, feared or loved, and shunned and embraced that the wind has ever carried by. So it hardly matters which I am right now, because I'm brimming with all the rest. I've known every - or will have soon enough, and haven't forgotten a single one. My now is just a snapshot of the brilliant whole.

So how am I?

Brilliantly.



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[One day I'll make this a poem]