The key to irrefutable Oneness

A confessional, by way of a poem at dawn.

I suppose I must 
come clean with you,
to say

I am not a human 
alone

but a multitude 
of starry nights
and sun-flecked skies

a flock of starlings rising 
off the alder grove
into the mist 
of autumn dusk —

the fecund mix
of decaying leaves 
and waning light —

the juncos’ 
cheerful twitters
as they awaken
with the sun. 

By omission
I would be lying 
if I didn’t tell you

I live hundreds 
if not thousands 
of past / parallel lives,

all streaming 
through 
my consciousness 
at breakneck speed,

timelines 
tumbling in 
on themselves —

the quantum leaps
of unborn universes. 

And it would be
downright silly
if I neglected
to mention

I can see through
veiled illusions
with the clear eyes
of orange-robed monks
in the Himalayas,

praying for enlightenment  
with the blessings
of ancient souls 
and unfathomable 
mountains.

For
like the stars and sun,
the trees and birds,
the monks 
and mountains,

I too 
hold the key
to irrefutable
Oneness.