Each morning
I rebuild my corporeal self
from dust and thoughts
for I am so tired
of constantly returning
but the mirror
reluctantly accepts me
too tired to even pretend
that I am complete
there must be another way
to inhabit my existence
to finally be free
from my cage of echoes
if only I could unmake myself
gently, reverently
like removing a stitch
from a sacred cloth
perhaps I could become
a space between the threads
an invisible design
that the pattern depends on
for then I would know
what it means to exist
without being even seen
like the invisible touch
of the wandering wind
© Ann Bagnall
Annie's Poetry 