Aparato

I am an apparatus;
a thing of many parts.
Which of them’s the core of me?
I suppose they’d say the heart.

But what about my body,
and what then of my mind?
Maybe it’s the soul they speak of but none can ever find…
Maybe I am only ever all these things combined…

I’m not sure what is better.
Would less be more or worse?
Sometimes I want to pare away
until all there is is thirst.

That thirst then drinks a body.
That thirst then drinks a soul.
That thirst then drinks a mind,
and puts a heart back in the hole.

This person, me, then spreads out.
It grows and flows out wide,
and bubbling like a boiling pot
my thoughts spit forth and find:

A trillion things to be now,
a billion bricks in walls,
and when I look I see how
I am both part and all.