Rayuela

I wonder if my soul goes somewhere else when I'm asleep,

and dream me is still me, but different, somehow.



And perhaps I wake up, perhaps I don’t.

But if all I do is run and run,

how will I know when I have stopped?

Can I trust my limbs to tell me I’ve arrived,

or is it that something else gets to decide?



I wonder what my name was before I left my mother’s womb.

I wonder if it suited me as much as mine does now.

Because sometimes when I wake up,

I feel the same but different somehow.



So if I wake up tomorrow, maybe I won’t be the same.

But instead,

I’ll close my eyes.

My mind will drift.

And I will pull a number that decides who I will be.



Or perhaps I’m wrong, and we wake up everyday to

build another brick,

dive another mile,

turn the hourglass around.