No Edges

Trace a line between You and I,
seems the sharpest edge, us divide.
Alike in mind, but not derived
from the same stock, you might deride.

Now, say you break a rock in twain,
are the two stones separate or the same?
and now, what of your brain?
If lobotomized, are both halves you, and sane?

What if we start from scratch,
Dust some atoms off, make them latch.
Build a man and another one to match.
Can’t you see, how it can all just detach?

Now listen up, still think we’re alive?
How can specks of dust die?
Big word for dust to collate,
speculate that it has a fate;
that due to mass it can transcend state.

How funny,
For a pile of dust to call itself alive,
Decide what is and isn’t to survive.
Funny, to call itself something so small,
to think that it can die at all,
that there’s something there to lose,
that any of us are here at all.

All things have borrowed form,
No edges, with that as a norm.
The universe itself is zero sum,
seeming edges flatten, succumb.