The birth of the subject – K.B

The birth of the subject

 

 

I, was part of something
I, was a son
I, was a brother
I, was a pupil
I, was the son
Of ignorance
I, was a neighboor
I wasn’t.

I had no feelings
Of my own

I was always
Part of something,
Mostly jerkiness.

I was in fusion,
I was in
My mother’s belly

I was sedated
I was numb

I would listen
To preachers,

I wouldn’t
Exist.

I was resigned,
Humble enough
To live in the
World I was
Offered.

But O Freedom !
O enchanting
Parties,

O Lovers,

In all those things,
I would exist.

O Body,
O Dance,

O…me !
K.B

All rights reserved. 2018.
This is a tribute to Descartes, who invented the « I », the subject, source of all joys and all pain. Not a communatarian anymore. Cheers.

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