The Same You

Are you the same you?

Are you the same you that you were before?

Cells shed like snakeskin, mind changed about trivialities, eyes scanning the page back and forth as you try to remember who you were when you first started reading.

Are you the same you that you were three sentences ago?

Is a butterfly a caterpillar?

A lump of unpolished stone might resemble a gem if you polish it long and hard enough. Have you been polished? Do you reflect the light, or mute it?

You were a small child once. You were a child. You dreamt childish things. There was so much you did not yet understand about the world. There was so much possibility. There were dragons.

Are you the same you?

Could you believe in a dragon once more? Could you believe in yourself?

Just as the snakeskin is no longer the snake, those memories and sluiced-off skin cells are no longer you.

You are here, proclaims the sign in the mall. You are here, proclaims the sign in the theme park.

You are here, proclaims the man writing on the internet. And then he repeats it:

You are here.

You are here.

You are here.