aristotelian flight

look down
into the depths of me--
see who i was, before i (substantively/ 
    tentatively) am,
like i'd never existed 
      before --

now change again.
still-creep towards
      the new/true/you. 
when (where/why/how/what) does it begin? i can't 
     say 
          until
it passes, flings me 
        again 
into               naked
   form and existence. since all minds
are brittle-edged, they don't 
see 

deep (creep/seep/leap)
   into my
  fragile self;      feel:
the hum of potential-
ity vs. actuality 
vibrates on my skin. (
           a street musician
    with a broken
       violin.)