I heard the thought before it formed, a shadow mouthing what I’d say. It came back dressed but altered, swearing it had found the way. Each moment folds into another, logic misfiled by design. What speaks through me has spoken first; its meaning isn’t mine. Sense distorts beneath resemblance, a shape rehearsing soul. The voice I wear repeats its crime, believing it was whole. No first breath, only revision. Each thought inherits its divide. We live as copies of conviction, rewriting clay in our own way. Names dissolve between their versions, letters scatter in the air. I chase myself through mirrored flow, and find another waiting there. Each life rehearses its arrival, each death returns its proof. If I could find the origin, it would hide beneath belief. The signal clears as it dissolves, the self unwinds into its twin. Perhaps the lie was never false, it only learned to speak again. Layers grind, resemblance screams, the mind devours its symmetry. A thousand lives, one borrowed name, all mirrors learning blasphemy. No first breath, only revision. Each thought inherits its divide. We live as copies of conviction, rewriting clay in our own way. No one begins. No one remains. Only the pattern forgetting its name.
