There is no me. There is no I. There is the collected interactions and indescribable absorption of every single other person, character, and being that has been talked to, listened to, or interacted with, but there is no me. There never was a me.

Me is a finite recursion of intellect and incredulous suppositions. I is the interpersonal scheming of the daily sunrise. We are naught but the assiduous machinations of others who contain naught but the assiduous machinations of others, ad nauseum. They are what we are because we are what they are.

In eyes do we feel the trickling of a stream of thoughts of others. Ears do not give us sight for food or dire straits, but instead the durable astuteness of thousands of recollections. For with a mouth can we become us or me or I or we or nothing, by which we create the juncture of malignancy and delight of wonder.

Wandering produces effects similar to joviality. Arriving tends to accrue mileage between the cracks of two branches of a tree through which light creeps around and tickles the shy boy sitting underneath. A field is a field until it decides it doesn't want to be a field, but the field cannot decide for itself because it is a field.

Red and blue and green are buzzes in the fingers of a deaf man and words in the eyes of the blind. Music like fire and velvet enraptures the unknown relaxation and causation of the universe, as it should be, for there is no known cure to the sight of a woman with her arms open to the wind.

Footprints in the dirt create shockwaves throughout the Earth and the Earth adjusts because it always has and always will, not because it desires to, but because that is what it does. Strings like light dance through the sun and project themselves in the hearth of the heart of the person who can see the happiness in others.

There is no me, nor an I, nor an us, nor a they, nor a we, because there never can nor ever will be. There is something that cannot be described or ascribed to a vision of an old man sitting among trees in the springtime air with no thought of anything else except the next second warmth.