Irene Zoe Alameda

Highway

Have they been nice

Or lovely

Or beautiful?

 

Are the trees that I see the expression of

Someone’s mind?

The product of casualty?

 

Is it by accident that I am driving on this road?

Or that I am thinking as I think?

 

… This wish, this need,

this impulse of recording my voice:

 

Is this the product of someone’s wish?

Am I just an accident of destiny?

 

- Or maybe there is no destiny?

 

An accident of entropy?

 

Am I chaos?

Am I order?

 

Am I the will of order within chaos?

Is my existing the result of an accident?

 

Are we all accidents, coetaneous accidents,

Among infinite chaos?

 

Is red the longest light wave here only,

or everywhere?

Is there an everywhere?

 

Why do I feel that I am?

Why do I sometimes want to not exist?

 

… And why, most of the times

-if there is a most of the times

-if there is a time

do I want to pre-exist

and to post-exist

myself?


Why do I have this self-awareness

so powerful

that tries to transcend

my limited, organic, existence?

 

Why this long survival?

Why this short survival?

 

Why is the light white when I feel myself?

And why is it always orange when I am part of everything?

 

Am I just part of the sun?

Are my eyes extensions of the sun?

Are the lights of the cars in front of me

Extensions of someone’s mind?

 

Who

- if there is who

is part of the sun?

 

Is the sun part of a biggest sun?

 

Is the sun an invention?

Am I just a negligible particle of an everything?

 

Why is the light so white when I feel myself?

And why is it so orange when I am part of the others?

 

What are the others if not me?

Why do I know the others more than

I know myself sometimes?

 

And why do not others know me

When I need to be known?

 

Why is there this asynchrony,

- This out of sync

Between me and the ones I want to join with.

 

Why do I feel so lonely when everything is white?

Why do I feel so welcomed when light is orange?

 

… Why am I not anyone

In the dark?