Shouts and Echos

When all is tangentially related,
   pushing and pulling,
  shining
        reflecting—
   Self becomes a metaphor

Am I not
         what I am?

So, where is the meaning in "Tree?"

   I am shouts and echos.
        My reality defines
             and is defined—
                              by me?

Intention is subtle, discrete, hidden,
    when causality governs
  an ordered cosmos,
             as below and above...

Chaos is a product of
    sequential thought
        and perspective limitation;
  but all is meaningless
      without a reference point.

  I am a fractal, started circa 1984;
     yet, my bones are much
                        much older.

I was born on the cusp of Aquarius.
I enjoy high speed
               burns
           —stoned—
     to the beach to
               catch the sunrise
          to clear my thoughts.
Would you believe me if I told you I get told I have an old soul,
a lot?
and it only matters when I think of one
other human being on this planet of six
billion, plus, schmucks and assholes;
myself included—
infants, though, are exempt.
    you're probably not her;
   so, I don't fucking care for your
   fluff.

Tell me, Boddhisattva, if I shatter
        I and I, erase ego,
     mute myself
            do I exist to cease;
   become something else;
                   or...