That Which Declares Myself To BeAfter 'Songs of Myself' by Walt Whitman
I love myself, I sing songs of myself.
What I am is what you are, and
Who you want to be is who I am.
I am what my mouth tells I am,
I care not about good or bad,
I speak at every hazard, with consent or without.
I am all that nature purported myself to be,
I am all that nature failed to perceive.
And I am more than what you
Can extrapolate from the existing world.
I proudly exclaim,
Therefore, I am!
But, there is this in me,
I know not how to call it,
Neither do I wish to address it.
Shall I continue to speak of this monstrosity?
Nameless, ambiguous, a nonentity,
It dwells somewhere beneath my skin,
And creeps upon my back
To direct me!
Just as an artist perfects his final masterpiece,
Just as a conductor orchestrates symphony into a flawless flow,
It, though undefined, tells me who I am.
Am I all that I profess myself to be?
It says, I am.